My Childhood Memories

Most of my childhood memories come from the apartment my mom and I have been living in for about a decade. We reside across from a busy street called Panama lane. Roughly every day that street is pervaded with many different cars that vary from red, black, white, and etc. Most of the time I can hear the cars racing by or hear the screeching of the brakes or sometimes the loud annoying honk that rings through the night. As I would climb up the seemingly endless steps to get to the worn out wooden walkway that connects to a door that leads to my apartment that was worn down yet at the same time very functional.

The door was now a weird off colored white that no stain remover could fix. Bugs were scattered on the door, making the door look spotted or polka dotted. The deadlock on the door was broken. The golden lock would get stuck halfway when unlocking, which was incredibly frustrating. The living room is a relatively smaller room that sits across from the kitchen. My living room is very bland. The colors stick to dull neutral colors like white, black, and gray. The most prominent things in the living room are the two chocolate colored couches that sit on the opposite sides of a black 55 inch T.V. There is a fireplace by the T.V that seemed like it was from the prehistoric ages. Above the fireplace was a multitude of photos that contained the various family members we have.

The kitchen and dining room are conjoined and lie directly across from the living room. The white walls were scattered with random holes that have been created throughout the years. The granite countertops were pretty sturdy and yet falling apart. I can remember looking over our granite counters smelling the delicious food that my mom would cook almost everyday. On the weekends the kitchen would smell like fabuloso and freshly baked desserts. It was an interesting combination, but it is a combination that gives me a sense of home. The kitchen floors were always cold, so cold that I would never walk barefooted in the kitchen.

My bedroom probably holds the most meaningful memories for me. I can remember all the pointless fights me and my brother would get into. All the times that one of our hands or knees would end up putting a hole in a door or breaking something that had to be replaced. My room has two twin sized beds. One bed was completely ruined due to one of our fights. In my room there is a wooden record playing in the corner of the room that sits on an old dusty black dresser that covers up countless amounts of holes.

The bathroom was a relatively small bathroom that fit one person and one person only, but what are you supposed to expect from an apartment . The bathroom countertop is home to a very outdated laminate top. The porcelain toilet has been replaced so many times due to it leaking. Our toilet sits side by side of the countertop and the shower. The shower has two opaque sliding glass doors that wouldn't close and was covered with drapes that are fairly new. The drapes are mostly blue but then transition to white, then light brown then dark brown. The wooden panels frame the floor, which was falling apart at the corners. There is a brown carpet placed in the middle of the bathroom. Most of the time the trash is overflowing with toilet paper and random wrappers. The bathroom door was problematic for us . The dirty white door would randomly get stuck or wouldn't lock making the bathroom frustrating.

My mom's bedroom is a quiet, dark place that acts as her safe haven. She is always cleaning her room and making sure it was spotless. She cleans her room about 3 times a week. She would yell at anyone saying don't cross the line or get out of my room because she doesn't want anybody in her room when it is clean. My apartment is very old and outdated, but it is home even though some parts of the house don’t function properly. It is still home to me and my family.


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