Washington DC, most people will hear the name and think the nation’s capital. Go about ten minutes south there is a small suburban town called ‘Annandale’. This is a relevantly large place to call ‘home’ though, following the main road, there will be a neighborhood called Wakefield Chapel. One of the main roads of this neighborhood is called ‘Duncan Drive’, along this street there is a house, that looks ordinary.

When you walk through the large wooden door, a large chocolate lab will run to meet you. Walk through the foyer, and you will enter the kitchen. Just standing there at the entrance you can tell that this house is filled with love, laughter, and just generally good people. This food, this laughter, and these people created memories that make this house a home.

Even though this is what most people would define as ‘home’, someone could still argue that this house is still too big to be called a home. Up the stairs to the second floor a hallway with four bedrooms can be found. If you enter the one that is just across the hallway you will find two windows, a queen sized bed and each one of the four walls painted either pink, blue, green or yellow. This is my home within my home, my room.

It was this room at my dad’s has been a constant and holds memories from my whole life. It was because I went back and forth between my parents houses that having a constant something was important to me. This is the place that I did homework, and watched Netflix. It is more than that though, this is the place that I hung out with my best friends and laughed till I couldn’t breathe, where I celebrated with myself after victories, where I cried in over now stupid issues. This is room that I got ready for homecoming and prom in. I have all these great memories in a place that was a constant which made it my home.