Memories of home

Driving up to the house, my house, the tires screech to stop as the carts tires also most to the rhythmic symmetry that I have come accustomed to my whole life. As the car comes to a full and complete stop everyone clicks off their seat belts and the big van door slides open and everyone moves like a well-oiled machine to exit the car. Someone locked thee front door so one of the kids runs through the side of the house to open the door.Like little white mice all the children move and to their separate ways throughout the house to occupy their short attention span and in no time at all everyone is either watching television or on a computer or screaming and yelling at each other.

The time with my family is so special but I appreciate when they are gone from the house so I can have it to myself.

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I love making miniature campfires in the backyard which is the largest in the neighborhood. The wind blows throughout the trees and the smoke gently sifts vertically up toward the canopy.These are some of my favorite times I remember Just sitting on my bed, Innocent and wondering about nothing I would hear the rain fall from the sky and the cars moving through the rain where the ire’s would sift the water to either side of them. What an awesome feeling the rain can make. It is not a bad feeling. Its not a depressing feeling.

It is a feeling of youth. And not caring about anything other than where the rain is coming from. Just sitting on my cold bed I have a weird feeling of warmth.As I have the comfort of the fireplace downstairs warming the house In such a natural way. As If It does not matter how wet you get or how low one can go the fire In Its secure position makes me feel secure. And when I get wet from the water from the sky, the fire will dry away he cold In my bones. The sound of rain Is one that Is hard to explain.

Its Like the soft clapping of hands in a certain rhythm come together and feel so natural. I miss the sound of rain, and simply rain Itself, It feels Like I have not seen or been In rain for years.I honestly cannot remember the last time I was In It. The rain at my grandparent house In the country was truly amazing, It Is some of my favorite times. I love the sound of the rain of the tin roof that then forces the flow of the water down the hill. I love most Is the smell of the Inside of that place. There Is a feeling you get when you are nice and warm Insole the house and for a moment you walk outside onto the porch and you are not getting wet.

You can almost feel the water plashing upon you and you love It.Again the fire Inside Is the stropping, without the fire there Is nothing to be admired. If you get wet you will stay wet unless you change you clothes, what an amazing feeling to have such a fire to huddle around as a family and talk and watch a moving then go to sleep as the rain continues to pour. To be In that place. Pure serenity. Total abandonment. Memories of home By thruways times I remember Just sitting on my bed, innocent and wondering about nothing I fireplace downstairs warming the house in such a natural way.

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As if it does not matter how wet you get or how low one can go the fire in its secure position makes the cold in my bones. The sound of rain is one that is hard to explain. Its like the soft clapping of hands in a certain rhythm come together and feel so natural. I miss the sound of rain, and simply rain itself, it feels like I have not seen or been in rain for years. I honestly cannot remember the last time I was in it. The rain at my grandparent house in the country was truly amazing, it is some of my favorite times. He hill.

I love most is the smell of the inside of that place. There is a feeling you get when you are nice and warm inside the house and for a moment you walk outside upon you and you love it. Again the fire inside is the stropping, without the fire there is nothing to be admired. If you get wet you will stay wet unless you change you talk and watch a moving then go to sleep as the rain continues to pour.