The somewhat small, yet livable, country home is filled with the inviting fragrance of delightfully scented candles in the afternoon and the delicious aroma of my mother's secret recipes in the early evening. Each person who enters is immediately greeted by the fragrances and finds themselves staying a little longer than they planned. The delicate light from my momâ€™s recently bought lamp beckons sleep and the faded gray cushions on the worn living room couch holds many a drowsy head.
The inside of the house consists of rooms that are small and barely separated so that you always knew what is going on in the next room. From the living room, you often see my mother giggling at one of my father's corny jokes as she prepares supper while he piddles about. In the living room, I sit watching reruns of my favorite shows as my brother constantly teases me by frequently changing the channels. He begs me to play games of checkers and â€œgo-fishâ€ as we wait for dinner to be ready.
We always eat dinner together in the dining room that barely separates the kitchen from the living room. The dinner table is a small wooden oval that has wobbly legs and shakes when one of us laughs. Sometimes trivial arguments take place when my brother hurls mashed potatoes from his spoon at me or I chew with my mouth open one too many times.
After dinner, my brother, my dad, and I quickly race to see who can make it out of the house long enough to be excused from kitchen duties. My mom and dad read stories to my brother and often my dad tells us stories from when he was a boy.
It is a warm house. Itâ€™s warm even in the icy winter months when the heat is turned off at night to save money. During the winter, elevator music from the weather channel echoes from every room in the house as we all watch restlessly anticipating the new seasonâ€™s blizzard.