I have been taking a lax writing class through the Daily Post on WordPress and and I would Like to share a couple of the responses I wrote. Other than that I know I have dropped off the face of the Earth but I am back now!
Prompt: Describe childhood home.
My home that I lived in as a child is the home I live in today. It has been 13 years since my family bought and moved into the small, 3-story house on Arborview Blvd. Just down the road from the downtown of our small city, our house sat perfectly waiting for someone to inhabit it. This is not to say that the house was at all perfect, because it’s not. The floorboards constantly squeak with age as well as the doors throughout the halls. The first floor bathroom is located off the kitchen and is not at all sound proof so unless you want to hear the noises of someone taking a piss while you are cooking dinner, you should ask all guests to go upstairs to do their business. Then there is the back door that swings inwards, just barely missing the refrigerator, and making it impossible to close since the lock is jammed.
In the basement we have the oldest living washer and drier known to man that came with the house (we thought it was a nice gift from the previous owners but it turns out there is not enough room to move them out of there). With the knobs broken off and the unsettling smell of old laundry coming from the washer every time we use it, you tend to get slightly fed up with the current predicament. Unfortunately they still work and thus there is no need for them to be replaced.
Once upstairs the house is much better. Except for the fact that it gets extremely hot or incredibly cold. It’s practically like camping outside except worst because it is stuffy and enclosed. Opening windows help air flow, but then you can’t escape the loud noises that accompany the early morning as well as the late night drivers that speed down our street at one in the morning. Aside from the poor ventilation system, I happen to have a little trap door that leads to the attic. The. Most. Terrifying. Place. Ever. Since I was little I have always had nightmares about something coming down from the attic, a place I have never been and truly don’t want to see. It was never a problem when I was littler since my bedroom was in the room next door, but when I got older and needed more space, that room became my sleeping place. I don’t really worry about it much anymore but I still have nights when I stare at that little door and worry to no end about what could be up there. Another thing wrong with the upstairs is the ceiling fan in the bathroom. It’s a small one built into, well, the ceiling and is surrounded by installation, which means that every time someone turns it on, it starts to rattle and shake and eventually burn. I have a fond memory of when we had to call the fire department and evacuate my assortment of pets at the time because someone had left the fan on and it was burning the installation. After that day no one has touched the little switch that turns it on, and if a friend accidently (or just plan naively) flips the switch everyone in the house rushes to fix the problem.
Throughout my life there have been a lot of ups and downs and this house has seen it all. It is my family’s house and it will continue to be our house. With all its quirks and possibly life-threatening aspects it seems to work with us, thus becoming one of us over the span of these 13 years. I love all that it is and will be sad to leave it when the time does come, but I am grateful for all that has happened inside these walls.
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