I think that the size proportion of a thing is really in the eye of the beholder. When I was twelve my home was in a house. At that time, to me it was grand. It was sandwiched in a bricked terrace row, three house before the end of the close.
It was a pretty comfy space. A safe haven for a family of eight. At that age, two of my older siblings were already away. The third was sort of in and out. For peace sake, in a boarding school they tucked him away.
I loved the feel of the neighbourhood. It was there I hatch memories of my childhood. The close was tarred and its sidewalks paved. And on this street, my sisters & I with other children reenacted Sesame Street.
Not a month went by without hosting a house guest. Sometimes, at the same time we housed more than one guest. As a child from this I learned great hospitality. Though some guests deserved nothing but my hostility.
They say home is where the heart is. As for me, this maybe true and not. For no matter how far I may travel, this terraced abode will always remain home.
Copyright © 2014 NUBIANWATERS. All Rights Reserved
“Today, tell us about the home you lived in when you were twelve. For your twist, pay attention to — and vary — your sentence lengths.”