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Home: Portugal
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Sunday, 29 April 2007 |
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It’s not hard for me to tell you what home is and why it’s so important to me. My home is basically where all of my childhood memories are.
When I was little, I used to play in this huge garden that existed behind our house.
I can also remember going with my brother to the street near our house where we played football, and rode together on the same bicycle. I wasn’t afraid to get lost; we could always see the red roof-tile looming above the green field that’s still around to this day. I wouldn’t mind going back in time but, I wouldn’t change anything. I was very happy and still am…
When I was eight years old, and my brother was eleven, my parents took into consideration the fact that we were growing up and there was a shortage of space so, they rebuilt our house and today, everyone has their own room. Fortunately for me, because as a girl, I couldn’t share the same room with my brother for the rest of my life. These days, my privacy is an important part of my happiness.
I also remember being twelve and breaking my arm while skating. This is a memory I wish I did not have.
I’ve kept some good memories of my old house but I have to confess that my large and comfortable room is much nicer than the old one. I know I shouldn’t be so superficial, but remodelling the house was not only a way to increase the value of the property but also a way to improve our way of living.
Our neighbours are like family, literally. Across the street, I have a lot of uncles, cousins and my mum’s grandparents. When we need something, everybody comes to our help. But sometimes, this can be a little annoying because even when we don’t want them to know something about our lives, they always end up knowing it.
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posted by Anabela @ 11:36 pm  |
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