I remember it all quite well, the summer nights, light breeze in the air, the smell of fresh cut grass. Palm trees rustling, with the crickets singing. Stars! Oh the stars how they shown at night. Crystal clear days, sun out most of the year, with not a cloud in the sky. How I was so lucky to have grown up in Palm Desert, CA, I have moved in and out of many houses throughout the years, but none of them were as important to me as the house in which I grew up. The memory of the house now stands as a symbol of my childhood. It is the only place that I remember nothing but pure happiness, youthful innocence and carefree laughter that would never fade.
My childhood home was like a picture. It was a beautiful Spanish architectural home built on an acre of rolling grass, high walls and an enormous amount of greenery for living in a desert. Coming home from school on a sweltering hot day was my favorite time. Before I would even enter the house I would walk around to the backyard and jump into the huge crystal clear pool with all my clothes on, and enjoy the crisp water cooling me off. Walking into my house, its was chill, with the Spanish tile floors, and high vaulted ceilings. When you first walked in you see the pillars in the entry way that lead you to the grand living room that was right in the middle of the house, with a wall of windows looking to the pool that I so loved to swim in.
If you took a left it would lead you into a huge open kitchen, where I spent bonding time with my mother. She taught me to cook and bake there, where I was just the right height to reach the stove and oven. Walking in to the kitchen area you would always smell
something cooking or baking. The aromas of good food and the sound of great company. The memories I have from just that kitchen are many.
Now if we go back to the living room and take a right, that would lead you to my room. I loved that room. Walking in you would see my comfy bed with all my stuff animals on it...