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My favorate place has always been Grandma's house. My grandma's house has and always will have a very special place in my heart. I spent many summers with my grandmother when I was younger through my early teen years. Her house seemed to have something special about it that set it apart from all the rest. It is just the little things that make Grandma's house so special to me.
My grandma's house is a place of family gatherings. On holidays it is always full of laughter and cheers. Uncle Jack can be heard from miles around with his deep, signature laugh. Aunt Beth never passes the opportunity to joke about his laughter. Everyone sitting down at the holiday dinners can be seen making jokes about one another or telling the newest joke he heard.
My grandma can always be seen sitting in her living room, next to the front door gazing out of her window. This is where she reads her daily newspaper and drinks her hot black coffee with no sugar and no cream, the old fashion way she calls it. She sometimes sits in her living room for hours upon end watching the birds swoop down to the bird feeder placed next to the window. My grandmother recognizes the same birds and has names for most of them. She never misses the opportunity to gaze at the squirrels whenever possible. She always describes them like people with their own different personalities. It is hysterical always listening to her stories about what the bird or the squirrel did that day.
In the cool summer days Grandma and whoever happens to be at the house will sit out on the back porch for hours and talk about anything and everything imaginable; she is known as the neighborhood gossip queen. The back porch is a place for everyone to sit and relax in the warm sunny breeze and just get out whatever they need to. My grandmother is a person I can talk to, and whenever I decided to talk to her about somethi
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One Favorite Place From My Childhood
To feel safe from the evils of the world, in my childhood, I would go into the
backyard and enjoy the beauty of the green grass. When the everyday routine of childhood would get boring to me I would visit the insects of the backyard, where a curious attraction was sure to last. The backyard at times seemed to be quiet and devoid of life,but soon friends would gather and a game would ensue causing the backyard to generate life. When uncertainty of life created fear in my mind I would cling to the love of my favorite thing I owned, the backyard, where there was never a question of it generating hateful strife.
On cold days when you could see your breath or hot days when the dress attire
was as little as possible there would always be the backyard welcoming me for a visit. I could escape to the backyard and monitor the sky day or night and while singing or eating, but unlike other yards there was always a place for me to stand or sit. When fear and depression made me scared or worry I could always run to the backyard and look up at the peaceful and soothing heavens while laying back on my hair. When my mother would sometimes temper my ugly anger with punishment the visions of me in my favorite place, the backyard, soon would clear my despair.
On days of boring subjects at school and when the time seemed to stand still or
days where cartoons did not feel me up with joy I knew the backyard would be waiting for me, full of life to explore. In the backyard, I would experience the cycles of life which had its ups and downs or survivals and grotesque gores.
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