Essay On My Favorite Place

About a year ago, I came home from work one night and walked into the kitchen to where my mother was standing. There was a feeling of uneasiness and the panic began to clench my stomach. She looked so sad, so stressed; maybe it was the frizzy hair, the bags beneath her eyes, the way her back slouched in a low negative curve, or her eyes. Her eyes looked at me before she turned them away, but in that fragment of a second, it’s almost like I could look inside her narrow eyes and search until I would come upon this thing. This thing has no name, but it scares her. She wouldn’t exactly explain to me what it was but I felt the sudden movements of uncertainty with the way she shifted her body and

Separate but equal is the approach that my roommate and I took when we moved in. To keep things separate, her things are on the left and mine are on the right. The equal part comes in if one of us wants to use something of the others (such as a nail clipper or a hair tie.) This means that almost anything we own is open to use with permission. We decided that we didn't want to combine any of our things just yet because we didn't know each other that well. I believe it's a good idea because it will reduce the chance of an argument over whose things are whose. Girls seem to be pettier about their things than boys. Having two girls in such a small space can lead to unwanted confrontation and bitterness. I'm not a territorial person,

I woke up and rustled all my things together and jetted down stairs. I see my mom across the room eating her favorite cereal, Lucky Charms. I slugged around the kitchen still half-awake trying to find a bowl, cereal, and milk. Then I heard a whistle and realized she had my breakfast ready on the table. I sat across from her on the table. The scent of perfume hit my nose, it smelled fruity. Her hair was combed back into a sleek bun. She was wearing a formal white shirt and a black skirt and some heels. I slurped the last of the milk as she was almost out the door. I walked outside and ran to the car. I opened the door and got inside. It was 7:59 am.

My mother was out of town, so I knew it was not her. I grew afraid of the strange woman in my house, the maroon-colored walls in my bedroom was giving me an ominous feeling, making my room look stained with blood. I went quietly out of my door and down the hallway, knowing that they were arguing in the kitchen by the volume of their voices. I paused in the middle of the hall, unsure whether to continue or to go back to my bedroom. I only decided on the former after I heard a muffled shout and the woman’s voice laughing. This decision was the biggest mistake of my life.

I would stay alert all night sometimes. Every gust of wind or howl of our neighborhood dogs would send shivers through my spine. Throughout the nights I could hear whispers. I could never make out words except for this night. (I was half asleep when) I heard it say “Let me out” I opened my eyes and I was in front of the basement door. BANG. “LET ME OUT!” I got up and ran to my room locking the door behind me. I was breathing heavy by the time I got to my room. Looking at my hands, I realized they were covered in salt. There had been salt surrounding the door to the basement.(I had never realized that there was salt that surrounded the door.)After that The month slowly passed by without even a sound from her. People prepared for upcoming Halloween. Pumpkins were carved and set out in the front of people’s houses as people prepared for this week, Halloween. A loud bang i heard chains fall against the stairs along with soft foot steps ( I brought a flashlight to talk to her then her I could see her cold black eye through the

I heard a feminine voice call out to me as I blazed out the front door. "Good morning Amber! Oh, where are you--" I cut her off with a sharp slam. I couldn't look back. With each step towards my car, I inhale painful sobs of air. I feel as if I don't know who I am, as if I was that 18 year old girl hearing the news of his death for the first time. I couldn't think of the name that belongs to me, or any one else but my father. Any face my subconscious offers had the resonance of a total stranger, then was replaced with the haunting image of

I heard the click of the lock and my mom pushed the door open. We were greeted with an excited Coco. Her tail would wag furiously from left to right, making a thumping noise against the furniture and shakes her entire body in the process. My shoulders relax, and I did not realize how good it feels to be home. My brother pushes past me. The stench coming from his dirty and ripped up football jersey made my nose wrinkle. He rushes ahead to take a shower before dinner. That’s when a familiar smell hits me. A growling noise came from deep inside my stomach, wanting to be fed after a long tiring Thursday at school.

I could hear mom yelling my name from a distance, a sad worried tone of voice. Throwing my door open to run to mom not knowing what’s going on. I was quickly stopped by a bright light hitting my face. Making me close my eyes for a second or two. I saw the kitchen in a great ball of fire. Flames spreading from the laundry room all the way to refrigerator made it seem like the rest of the trailer was gone. I quickly shut the door to the room, stunned by what I had seen but still having the courage to keep it together and wake up my sister Liz. The odor of burning wood and the air getting thicker makes It hard to breathe but we both made it to the front door. We aren’t able to open it because it had one of those public restroom looking locks tree feet above the door

I am isolated from the others. The people of the main streets of Italy are very far from the island of Sicily in which I live. I live a basic lifestyle and live off the fat of the land as I tend my animals and eat my crops. I always lived my life afraid as if other people would judge me and point out my differences. This was who I was until the day that I decided enough was enough and I was going to venture into society and reveal myself. From my cave, I have seen boats travel to here occasionally and they have always left after some time. This was my way out I told myself. I knew the ships would lead to the mainland so I waited two days until the sound of the boat horn pierced my ears.

I found Henry David Thoreau?s ?Where I Lived, and What I Lived For? made a very convincing argument. He has many examples to support his beliefs. Thoreau stresses the importance and value of living the simplest life nature affords, which I believe is as important now as it was in his day.

Los Angeles is one of the most exciting cities in the United States. According to the Los Angeles post record tourist numbers in 2012, the city attracts 41.4 million visitors per year. Even though the traffic is terrible, Los Angeles is still one of my favorite places because of the many restaurants to dine in, and the many wonderful attractions.

As a child the most important place to me was the block in my neighborhood I grew up on. It was a particularly long and very wide street with several pairs of incredibly tall palm trees spread throughout both sidewalks. There was no shortage of playmates; almost every other home on the block had children around my age I could play with. There was also an older generation of teenagers that hung around together. I also had other family members living down the street from my house on the same block. As the children played daily so did the adults. The men of the block all met daily after work rotating from one home to another. They could be seen sitting around every

Words like cozy, calm, and memories can be used to describe my special place. A special place depends on the individual you are referring to. To me a special place allows the person to be happy and sad at the same place. This is where all realms of memories are made, allowing the individual to be able to reflect on them when entering that special atmosphere. In the warm summers I sit in our lawn with my dog as the cool wind blows, a feeling falls over me thinking about why I love my home and property so much and that I'm so very thankful to have it. I zone out for hours thinking about all the time that I have spent there with my family and friends. While I never regret any of the memories I have made, I cherish all of them and hold them close to my heart.

Where I live is one of the greatest neighborhoods in the city to live in; however it does have its draw backs. Importantly it has nearly everything a resident might want, beautiful picturesque scenery, proximity to shopping, and many of the cultural centers. Nevertheless the roads can be some of the most congested in town, and the streets are not safe to walk late at night.

Both my parents burst through the doors, looking slightly concerned. “Mehak, why are you screaming?” My mom questioned. My eyes started to get watery, thinking of all the terrible possibilities, and I got a feeling in my gut that something was wrong. “Grandpa... H-he...w-were t-talking a-and h-he started c-coughing a-and the l-line w-went d-dead.” I stuttered, not knowing what to think. My dad flew out of the room, probably to contact my grandma about what was going on.