Personal Narrative: A Special Place

When I think of a place that is special to me multiple things come to mind. My bedroom for starters is very special to me, especially because of the privacy it provides. I have six siblings, so privacy is something I value highly. Another special place to me is Black Bay Park, which is where my family would take walks to back in Post Falls, Idaho. There is one place however that shines brighter than the rest, and that is my grandparents' house. I'm not sure what it was about that place when I was a kid, and it almost feels like a dream just thinking about it. When I was a kid their house in the spring always looked perfect, it was bright, smelled like fresh flowers, and the colors were enchanting. The sun was always visible, there never seemed

just like them, (don’t tell them I said that) and it's bright yellow with a large pale blue garage right beside it. The house is three stories high, although it isn't as big as it sounds. That includes a basement and a small upstairs, there is a huge gravel driveway to the left of the house. This is perfect for the many cars that inevitably will be there for family get togethers. My dad's side of the family is very large, he has 10 siblings, which means I have a lot of cousins (about 20 of them just on my dad's side). It's fortunate that the backyard is huge, it's about half an acre big, which is plenty of room for everyone. The backyard is shaped kind of like a horseshoe, but with corners, because the garage is on the bottom middle of the yard and there are some dead vehicles behind it alongside two smaller sheds. Otherwise it would be a square. On the top right of the yard there is a huge garden that is a half chicken coop, the coop wasn’t there when I was a kid, instead there was flowers. To the left of that is just open grass where we usually set up our tents when we have big family events (mostly just our family reunion). To the bottom right is where they have their camp chairs, the picnic tables, canopy porch swing, and trampoline. On the right side of the garage are four gorgeous lilac bushes, so the backyard usually smells like lilac. On the front porch of their house are two rocking chairs and some pots of flowers. When you

Some people think that place is just somewhere you are in that moment, then they leave to a new one. They think that finding and exploring new places is a thrilling adventure, yet they don’t belong to any place at all. I remember one day in a church meeting, we were getting to know each other by saying where we were from. I heard some people say they were from some unique places however, one person said they didn’t know where they were from. That person always moved around as a child, and they didn’t seem happy about it. I read a book once, called "the Red Pyramid," in the beginning the main character explained how he and his dad were always moving around. When he would talk about it, people would say how lucky he was to travel all the time. He didn’t think the same way, he hated always being the new kid in school and never getting to make friends. Others think that "This spot where you sit is your own spot it is on this very spot and in this very moment that you can become enlightened." These kinds of people believe that you can only know a place by making memories, and truly laying down your roots to sprout a home. I think to truly know a place is to make it your home, not a house that you live in for a short amount of time, but somewhere you feel safe and loved. "In belonging to a landscape, one feels a righteous, am at-homeness, a knitting of self and world." That is how I feel a home should truly