I was about ten years old and full of curiosity and energy. I grabbed my favorite red converse shoes that were so tattered from the many days of playing outside. I tucked my shoes under my arm and ran out the backdoor up the grassy hill toward the cemetery barefoot.
Once I got to the top of the hill I could feel the wind getting stronger as it blew my hair across my face toward the west. Hearing the crows caw as I walked through the damp dirt path smelling the mud that was squeezing between my toes. Looking down I hear a small bullfrog splash into a shallow puddle that was filled with little black tadpoles. Slipping on my red converse shoes, I jump over the tadpole puddle that was blocking my path to my favorite place.
Finally, I reach the black pavement and feeling the warmth from the asphalt sink into my skin. I look down at that long narrow winding road. As I continued down the side of the road, stopping every now and then to pick a yellow dandelion that was growing in the tall grass that ran beside the black top. Holding the dandelion I pulled the yellow top of the flower off and rubbed it onto my arm till it stained my skin yellow. Giggling to myself as I admired the yellow mark on my left arm.
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Soon I came upon an opening between the tall oak trees that covered the old worn down gravestones of people's loved ones that had passed on. There she stood strong yet peaceful from way up on the mountain, the City of Charleston. What a wonderful spotlight the setting sun shun down on the city. The pink, orange, and yellow rays illuminated the tall serious buildings giving them a sense of life. As the minutes went by, the sky began to darken. It was getting late and the crickets began to chirp. Although night was falling in this place of resting souls, I could still smell the familiar air that carried the sent of dead roses, yet so sweet to my nose.
The sky was now black and I could see the stars peeking through that dark shield. Then I noticed the moon which lit up my pathway home. I picked up my heavy tired legs and began my journey back down the damp grassy hill. As I brushed my hand across the over grown plants that ran beside my walkway I counted the many lighting bugs that followed me home.
Finally, a sigh of relief as I opened the large oak wood door to my red brick house, once again reading the hand painted sign that hung from a single nail, which read "Home Sweet Home," and truly understanding those three words that were so comforting to my heart after fun yet exhausting day. I take one last look at the starry night sky and smile to myself while shutting the door behind me.
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Appreciating Life in My Home Sweet Home. (2023, May 31). Retrieved from https://phdessay.com/appreciating-life-in-my-home-sweet-home/
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