Memorable Place Essay

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A Victorian house of my memories was my home away from home throughout my childhood. It was a grand white house brimming with antiques that fed my mind. Imagine a place that brings you straight from reality into a world of fantasy and that would be an apt description of my grandfather's house. Some reasons I loved this his home were because you could get free golf balls in the warm months, his backyard had a row of trees that resembled a tunnel that was like something of a fairytale (especially in the spring when all the exotic-looking blossoms and dark blackberries came out), and also, behind closed doors of the old house, history came alive. Everyone has a past-time, and my grandfather had many that he passed down to my siblings and I. Every summer when we would smell the green grass from the golf course across the street, grandfather would drop his own golf balls (what a little sneak, he was!!) and naively, we would collect them for fun. In fall, my siblings and I would be given the very important job of raking his lawn, a lawn so huge it would be covered with inches of leaves. We would spend our weekends building leaf forts and castles to nestle in. At the time it seemed like a win-win situation back then considering my siblings and I were playing around in millions of leaves; we still received a dollar payment every time even if the leaves were not completely raked! The inside of my grandfathers Victorian was almost like being in another time and place. I remember his old record player that was always covered with dust, which sat beside an even older television set. Upstairs, the bedrooms my relatives slept in still looked the exact same as when they left, quilted blankets my great-grandmother had made still resting. My grandmother's life-size baby doll was so old the porcelain was cracked, giving it a spooky feeling that kept any of us from digging

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