English IV
House Of Memories
8/16/03
House Of Memories
Of course there are lots of places where there are lots of memories. I have lived in the same house all of my life where there is just an unlimited amount of memories. However, my playhouse is where many childhood memories that I hold very close to my heart took place.
The playhouse is completely made out of wood. The walls are coated with so many layers of paint that I have lost count. (We always wanted to change the colors.) It’s relatively small with a loft in the top. There is a table, an old worn-out rug, and two small chairs.
The two neighbor girls, my two sisters, and I would all play “house”. We would gather leaves and sticks and pinecones or any other things we could find and pretend they were food. We also each decided on some kind of a “job” for each person. The jobs were something like a “field worker” or someone to gather sticks. A lot of times we gathered enough wood in order for to have a bon-fire. This was always especially fun when you get to roast marshmallows and make s’mores.
What I remember the most is how my two sisters and I used to spend THE WHOLE DAY cleaning the playhouse out. We would work all day, sweeping and washing, so that we could sleep in there that night. By evening time we would pull out lots of blankets and pillows, snacks, and a flashlight. It was a rare occasion if we actually stayed the whole night. Usually we would get scared and would come back up to my house, but it was still so exciting for us.
So I guess I wrote about the memories of my playhouse because the only memories of the playhouse are good memories, of all of us kids being happy and carefree.
