Memories hold an essential part of our lives. We get to lie back and remember details as if it were yesterday. I grew up in Douglasville, a small town in Georgia. Growing up there, I got to love the place. Most of the people here were great, ensuring I had a great and memorable childhood.
My parents had chosen an old house for us to live in with the plan of renovating it someday. Its vintage theme took you back to the ’90s, which was their vision. The living room had a large window that allowed the sunlight to penetrate the room, giving it a little bit of warmth and light. Laminate flooring was all around the house with different patterns for every room. I would wake up to the chirping of birds every morning, open my door and head out to the balcony. The fresh air was breathtaking, like never before combined with how the wind would sway the trees. Being around nature made me relaxed, contributing to a peaceful childhood.
My mother’s favorite place was the kitchen. She always made sure that our stomachs were well taken care of. The aroma that would come out from her cooking is still fresh in my mind. I remember coming home one day from a friend’s place, and all I could smell was the baking ham in the oven with a faint hint of fresh baking bread. The kitchen, though small, reminded me of mom cooking massive family dinners. Birds would chirp around the kitchen windows once in a while, giving a beautiful view from the kitchen, but mom always complained about them being there.
I spent a lot of time in my room since it was my sanctuary. In there, I was able to draw, and I often daydreamed of how my life would be in the future. As I grew older, the painting on my walls was changed to grey, since I always hated its original green color. I was also able to hang some pictures, most of which I had drawn on the walls. I had a queen-sized bed with many pillows on it and matching sheets. The joy that I had because I didn’t have to share my bed or my room was priceless. It must have been the price of being an only child. My room was my haven since it made me feel safe.
We had neighbors who were all very friendly, and we helped each other out when needed. I got to make friends with their kids, and every Saturday and Sunday, we would go out to ride our bicycles. The echoing of the laughter we had while playing still lingers in my mind. That touch of happiness and love from my friends was everything for they were not friends, but more of family.
We mostly hosted Christmas, thanksgiving, and family dinners in our house since mom’s cooking was the best. It was a lot of fun because we got to spend time with family, playing games and chatting all night. Relatives who came over also brought gifts, which was one of the best parts of hosting. I am thankful that I have such a wonderful family. My childhood home will forever remain in my heart, for it gave me the best memories.