Just a paper

            So with my schooling I had to write a couple papers, This is my favorite one that I wrote. 

Enjoy!

The house that built me.

There are some memories that will never leave you.  I have some that when I recall them, I can remember the smells, sounds, and even the way it felt at that moment in my life.  Then there are some that I don’t remember the details of what happened, just that I had a good time with my family or friends.  There are some memories like playing in my doll buggy, Christmas morning, or many memories of just random fun things that have happened in my life.  There is one memory that still brings tears to my eyes, that I will never forget the way I felt or forget the little details of this experience.

As I saw the look on my moms face, I knew something was behind me.  I tried to stand up but I couldn't.  My legs were stuck in the doll stroller that I had climbed into.  I was scared, and nervous that whatever was behind me was going to eat me.  So, I tried to run into the arms of my mommy.  I would try to stand and run as much as my legs would let me.  I got into my moms arms.  I felt safe, secure and not scared anymore.  As soon I would calm down, I sat back down in the buggy and my mom would push me down the hall fast as I would laughed and giggled.  Then the look she would give me, made me scared again.  We would play this game over and over again.

Christmas morning is a fun and exciting time for any child.  We would wake up and my brother and I would run into my parents room and wait till our parents would go into the living room and record what Santa had bought us.  Then we would all go into the living room and open our stockings and show what we got. Then one of us would play Santa.  Instead of having names on the gifts, mom would put a code on the packages and then we had to figure out the code so that we could get our presents.

Sitting around the kitchen table with friends, talking about everything and anything that we needed to talk about.  Having an almond fight with my best friend, watching my brother and his best friend laying down the wood flooring in our kitchen.  Pulling into the drive way and running straight to the bathroom.  Learning to cook.  Laying in front of the fireplace trying to get warm.  Family Scripture study and prayers before school in the mornings.  Looking in my parent’s room and seeing them saying their daily prayers.  Home was the only place I wanted to be when I was depressed or crying my eyes out over break ups.

These are just memories that I have of the house that built me.  May 9th, 2014,  I got the phone call that changed my life.  I was sleeping at a friends house and we had just laid down to go to bed.  I looked at my phone to see what time it was. I had a missed call from my mom.  I had talked to her earlier and she said that she was going to bed about 3 hours earlier.  So my mind started racing.  Is my brother ok, my grandparents, or even my dad?  Some one must have passed away. I was so scared of who in my life was gone.  I called her back and she then broke the news to me that my childhood home, the house that built me, the place I felt the safest was on fire.  The house wasn't going to make it.  I was in shock.  I couldn't believe that the place that was heaven on earth to me was gone.  She told me that Brett, a family friend was alive and fine.  She then had to go because someone was calling her from the neighborhood.  I called a friend that lived down the street and he was there in my driveway watching it.  He was crying as the roof fell in a little more.  The fire trucks were trying to put it out.  There were people gathered around watching my home go up with the flames.  I begged him to FaceTime me so I could watch as well.  He stood his ground and said no and for me try to get some sleep.  I couldn't sleep at a time like that!  I couldn't just sit there at my friends house and do nothing.  I needed to go home.  I tried to call other friends to come get me.  I would have driven myself to watch this but I couldn't because my car had just died the weekend before.  That night was a sleepless night.  The following week, I went up to my home.  As I drove down the hill to the house, I was getting emotional.  What was it going to look like, what did I need to expect?  As we pulled into the drive the tears started to fall.  My home, it was damaged, the place that I had gone to so many times when I was damaged was hurting now.  What do I do?  Where would I call home?  Walking into the house seeing the ceiling on the carpet, seeing the windows busted out, and then seeing where the big black hole in the wall, where I use to lay on the floor, in front of the fireplace and get warm, where I would feel safe and loved.  There was a hole, not just in the wall, but now in my heart.  A week after it happened, we had the opportunity to clean the house out.  We got rid of things, then got to go through boxes I forgot that I had, and saved things that meant so much to me.  Things that part of my childhood.  A clock that chime’s every hour, a cabinet in my mom's bathroom that held her makeup, and things.  I have the flag that was hanging from my house, everyday and even while the house was burning.  It flew in the wind.  This is one memory that changed my life.  Not all the memories from this home are good, but they have helped me form who I am today.