My Home Esssay

My hometown being a suburb in Cleveland, it is part of Ohio’s Lake County. The physical location of Willoughby is part of my culture, tradition, social life, and rituals. My family and friends accomplish the life story of my home, which lives in my heart. Between the ages of 4 to 12 years old the God’s grace smiled on me. I had the fortune of being brought up by both of my parents. Father was a Golf lover. He used to take us to watch Golf competitions and training at Willoughby Hills. Putt-Putt Golf Games made part of our family fun. I loved the batting cages and the thirty-six golf miniature holes ("Things To Do In Willoughby, Ohio"). The Lake Farmpark is a science centre as well as a zoo.

I was in love with the summer. I even wrote several love letters for the summer as a teen. My father knew I liked the Cleveland Museum of Art, and for sure he did not take that lightly. He took me to the Museum twice a year. By the way, this is the Cleveland’s finest attractions. With dad life never got boring, and everything was beautiful. However, I have to admit that I respected mother more than I did to father. I used to see my mother leave home in a nurse’s uniform and come home clean. At least I knew that doctors save people’s lives; maybe that’s why I respected mother than dad. My father used to stay home dirty, with oily hands, always repairing neighbour’s broken cars.

With time, dad grew not to be comfortable around me. He could have dinner in his garage and take several bottles of beer at the garage. Towards the end of my 13th birthday, things started to take a different turn. My father started wasting. At this time I was old enough to realise that something was going wrong. Our diet changed abruptly. Mother said that we could not afford what we used to afford when father was working. This made me rethink my understanding, and I realised that dad’s home garage was the breadwinner to the home. However, situations worsened. Dad became an alcohol addict. I wasn’t given time to change. Three days later father was attacked by a stroke.

He was admitted to the hospital for a period of three months. At that time life was hell at home. Mother was never happy anymore. There were no picnic trips anymore. What mother earned wasn’t even enough for my school fee and home expenditures. I learned that I had to go past it and correct what went wrong. I started spending more time with my cousins at the comedy shop, church choir, and the sporting events. These moments of fun with my cousins gave me the memories to forget the past. I decided to do my own survey from my neighbourhood. I only used a pen and a notebook to fill my table which involved a column for the candidates (which I named numerically) and a column showing the candidate’s corresponding emotional rating out of 10 about their important idea of home.

I examined on ten candidates only. I explained to each candidate the purpose of the research and told them to rate their emotional idea of home numerically out of ten. All my candidates clearly understood my question and did their rating. I love bulls but I hate pigs. I like playing hide and going to seek. I like watching basketball, golf, and soccer. This will never change until the angels of death take me. I hate myself for not loving dad enough, and for not appreciating what he was doing in my life. But to me, bitter memories drain my energy and are not part of my home. Home is where I get everything that I love, where we love and appreciate each other.