The childhood home I used to live in was one of peace. Every scratch, carpet stain, hole in the wall, it had a story. It's the only place I have truely felt at home.

The ugly, red plaid couch that sat the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room was a place where I held after school naps with my cat biscuit.

The grey leather recliner with the red and white blanket that was designated as my mother's chair was worn down from many years of use.

The glass table that was always covered in dust and yellow and white pastic flowers in the same blue and white porcelain vase it still sits in today. There was a table that sat in the kitchen, it had wooden legs and wooden trim around it, but the center was white tile, and some pieces were cracked. It had chairs from the same set, but a few of them were broken.

The hallway that led from the livingroom had a hole in the hallway from when my brother and I had been fighting and he pushed me. When I fell, my elbow had gone straight through the dry wall. The bathroom to left on the hall had been mine and my brother's before my uncle moved in. It had always been decorated with a sea theme.

The room across the hall from the bathroom was my room. It had a white twin sized bed in it, a wooden dresser, and a wooden table that had been covered with an Ole Miss blanket, and a crate to hold up my box T.V.. My room always held the most comfort to me in the house. It watched me grow up, through good and bad. It was where I learned to play guitar, had my first girlfriend, and so many other memories. There were picture frames in that room, one of the glass pieces in side was broken from when my brither and I had been playing and he threw a battery. The room was always a cluttered mess, but I loved it just the same as it was empty.

The next door to the left was my mom's. I spent hours in there watching youtube on my laptop, but it was always so quiet and calm. My brother, my mom and I all used to read in there when I was in elementary school and my brother was in middle school.

My brother's room was at the end of the hall, and I couldn't tell you much about it besides the fact that I felt like I shouldn't have been in there when I was.

The most calm I have ever felt, and the memory that will always be most dear to me was when I was younger and my mom would tuck us into bed. She would rub our backs and sing "You are My Sunshine" to us until we fell asleep.