Today, tell us about the home you lived in when you were twelve. For your twist, pay attention to — and vary — your sentence lengths.
Coming home is one of the greatest things for me and sometimes it’s not just that place I go to, but it’s an action or a feeling. But let me describe the actual cottage.
Just across the village Church lies 2000 square meters of land with my great-grandmother’s cottage placed there. Now I own it. Every time I see this property I think it’s so full of only beautiful memories that it is almost alive. Not material, just part of me, of a living person. Blessed. This is how i feel there, said in one word.
Made of black alder wooden beams, the three room house is about 130 years old. The porch has the same length as the cottage and there were always family pictures on those walls, as there are now. Stepping inside, this is what you can see: dark wooden floors, white adobe walls, some old walnut furniture and in one corner of the main room, the new fireplace we build. That’s what was missing when I was I child. Now it seems complete. My perfect home.Outside, the rectangular garden is strewn with different trees and cover with clover. At its left side, the stone fountain reigns, still providing us with very cold water. A bliss in the summertime.
Every Sunday, at half past nine, I eagerly wait the Church bells.They bring me an unexplained peace.
I go a few times per year there, but somehow it’s the only place I can call “home”.