The House

September 27, 2016
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This was a significant house because it was my childhood. Yes, throughout my childhood I have moved houses quite a lot and I am still, technically, going through the ending parts of my childhood. Although this house on Hillside Drive, is the most special. It's where I spent almost all of my younger years, where I played hide and seek in the cracks and crevices throughout the house. It's where I experienced true love, friendship, heartbreak, and opportunity. It's where my parents told me about their divorce, met my first best friend, where my little sister was born. She was birthed in the master bathroom, in the large bathtub to the right of the window. Her chubby purple body, frail and wrinkled was the the most beautiful thing in the universe.


This house was pretty large. Two story and very open. My mom painted my room a pale pink with hand crafted butterflies skirting around the top of my bedroom. My bathroom was a fairytopia with trees and small flowers decorating the space. I was a very fortunate child to be able to live there for a sum of eight years and I cherished it.

The backyard with a pond of slimy goldfish, an old rickety swing set that I spent hours a day on, with a sandbox that had an abundance of leaves embedded inside. The backyard wasn't big, but it was full of imagination and hours of games for a six year old girl. The house next door had a trampoline and I would jump on it with a pigtailed girl named Sydney. Sometimes her brother would come jump with us and we would play ‘Power Rangers’.
Life was simple yet knowledgeable. I grew up in certain type of environment that crafted who I am today.
When my parents had gotten a divorce, my mom moved out, and my uncle and aunt moved in with my dad. They had three kids, one of them was Amanda. She was such a nuisance and I had to share my bedroom with her. She always cried, and complained, and was never grateful. But she had gone through a lot. She was adopted and came from terrible birth parents so I had to pity her. But soon, the pity turned into awareness and respect and she soon became my best friend. She still is to this day.

When we would play hide and seek I would usually hide in my closet. And in that certain closet someone from former residence had taken a sharpie and written “Mackenzie waz here”, on the wall inside of the small area. I was so confused at first and was scared of who could have done that. I never told my parents of the curious writing and have never told anyone to this day.

When the day finally came, Amanda moved out, dad got remarried, the murals on my walls were painted over, and all of my belongings were packed. I took a sharpie, and under Mackenzie, I wrote, “Rosalee was here too”.

And now to this day, I don't know who lives in that semi-big house on Hillside drive, if my name has been covered up, or if that house is having the same effect on someone that it had on me. But what I do know are my memories, good ones and bad ones. Our childhood means a lot no matter how bad, sad, happy, memorable, and unrememberable. Be who you are and learn from expieriences. Childhood only happens once that's why it means so much.

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