Tell us about the home where you lived when you were twelve. Which town, city, or country? Was it a house or an apartment? A boarding school or foster home? An airstream or an RV? Who lived there with you?
Today’s twist: pay attention to your sentence lengths and use short, medium, and long sentences as you compose your response about the home you lived in when you were twelve.
Cozy is the word that comes to mind. The home I lived in from infancy through adulthood was cozy and warm. A sturdy brick home in suburbia with white shutters and a big porch that ran the length of the house. The best part – the backyard. It seemed to go on for days. A gentle sloping hill, great for riding anything with wheels. Trees lining the fence on both sides. And a two tall pines standing next to each other smack in the middle. My dad used those trees to make a tent for us in the summer. We weren’t allowed to sleep there overnight, but we’d stay inside it all day sometimes. Pretending. The backyard was many things to my brother and our friends during those days. An obstacle course. An Olympic course. An undiscovered planet. A crime scene. A cattle ranch. A zoo. A strange country where monsters and other furry creatures lurked everywhere. It was all ours.
Sometimes childhood can be lonely. You’re always full of stories and energy that the adults in your world don’t always have time to entertain. And your peers are all too eager to leave childhood behind prematurely. Maybe school had been a disaster that day. Maybe our parents were too busy to listen. Maybe our classmates were being jerks. But we always had the backyard, spread out in front of us like a magical faraway land, where just being a kid was always okay.