The place once I called home.

Today’s daily prompt is: Our House

What are the earliest memories of the place you lived in as a child? Describe your house. What did it look like? How did it smell? What did it sound like? Was it quiet like a library, or full of the noise of life? Tell us all about it, in as much detail as you can recall.

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The picture…isn’t clear in my head. It’s blurry. Almost twenty-two years ago… I can’t believe how long it has been since then and, everything is way more different now.

The earliest memory of the place I lived in as a kid was a very cozy house. Around that time I was 4 or 5 years old. This was also the very first house that my parents built on a land which my father inherited from his family. I am sure my parents put everything they’ve got to build that house; their money, hard work and hopes. It was an average house with 3 rooms, bathrooms, a living room and a kitchen. The walls were plain white but the house was refreshing because it wasn’t old. It was new and we had watched every wall of that house being built which made it even more special to live in that house. We had a garden in the front yard of our house and, I remember playing in the dirt and gravel in the garden. My grandparents lived next to our house so my memory is now reminding me of the good old days when I was spoiled with love and all the attention in the world.

I was too young when we lived in this house so I can’t recall all the details about the place. But I distinctly remember that we had a little parrot on the front porch. I remember my mom feeding me in the front porch while I talk to the pet parrot. That’s right; keep the kids entertained if you want them to finish their food. Even though, my parents eventually freed the sweet bird from the cage. They did it while I was at school because I wouldn’t let them if I were over there. My father and mother never liked the idea of keeping pets in cages. As a kid I was upset of letting the sweet little bird get away and it took me days to get over it and not question my parents about the bird,  but now I know my parents taught me a good lesson to value the freedom of others—even animals—just as much as my own freedom.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. One of the funny memories is that I got my first official electric shock in that house. Ouch.

I don’t know if it’s a bad thing that I’ve forgotten something so memorable about such a special place but I don’t remember the smell of the house. All I remember is that it was a happy home for young me as it was for my parents. Even though we didn’t live there for long, the house has so many memories of its own. No matter where I will go in the future, I will always remember where we first called our “home”.

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