My Chilhood ‘s House
Malala Yousafzai, a Pakistani activist for female education and the youngest Nobel Prize laureate, said “If you go anywhere, even paradise, you will miss your home”. My family and I lived in a very nice and old house that was built by a European architect. My house was in South Haiti, a small town named Camp Perrin. It is a five bedrooms’ house with 2 bathrooms (one of them was in my parents room and the other one was in the service of me and my brothers), a very spacious dining room, a prayer room because, my dad is a pastor, and a waiting room that faced our garden. Every day when I’m thinking about the way I used to live with my family back home I feel lost. I feel that I’m missing a chapter in my parent’s life. Ever since I moved to the United States, I always feel nostalgic every time I think about the memories that were shared in that beautiful house.
People who know me know what this house represents for me, my neighborhood and for foreign visitors. This is one of the most attractive constructions in my town. The view of the outside of my house was a mixture of colors. My mom loved to wake me up every morning at 5 to come help her take care of the flowers; she loved to water her flowers every morning. It was always a pleasure when our neighbors asked her for a bouquet of flowers. I could not understand how she got up every morning without an alarm clock.
My mom had her own stuff outside of the house to take care of that nobody could give her advice about. That is why my dad let her do on her way and decided to have a garden in the backyard for family reunions, birthday dinner and relaxation. There was a metallic table that he received from a friend for Christmas that my dad decided to place it in the middle of the garden for Sunday dinner. I remember in the backyard my dad had a hammock that nobody could lay on. Not far from the hammock, the cage of his annoying turtledoves.
The songs of my dad’s birds could not let me sleep at night, it came straight to my little bedroom. I owned this bedroom for more than 15 years. It was my kingdom, my private place where nobody had the right to get in without my permission. I even put a note in the door: “if it is closed that means you have to knock before you enter. ‘’ I had this note for a week because my dad said that I was too young to sleep or stay locked in my room and it wasn’t a good way to ask for privacy. In my bedroom filled with collectible toys, I had a twin bed that I used until I got to high school. Every time I tried to break it so they could buy me a new one, my mom called a friend to fix it. In the corner, was my little homework table and chair.
My favorite place beside my bedroom was the living room. I loved that part of the house not because I had fun in it or it was a place that I could do whatever I wanted. This place was so luxurious and important for my mom that my brothers and I couldn’t enter easily. Every time I wanted to hear a bad word from her, I asked her if I could go watch a movie or a show in the living room. She always found a good reason to not let us go into the living like “today I will have to receive a friend, find something outside to play with’’. The main reason was for the Sofa bed which she overprotected. I remember a summer vacation everybody was at home and we planned to watch ‘’Titanic”. That day my mom was so preoccupied because she knew that everybody will be in her living room and will have to seat on her precious Sofa. To not let us seat on her sofa that night, she went to a store to get 12 plastic chairs. No one could say a word about her decision, we just had to accept and enjoy the movie in our little black and white TV.
The living room was a quiet and precious place of the house, but the number one was the prayer room, where we had to go, and attend a meeting every night before going to bed. There was an ivory carpet in this room, my dad’s Bible and the blessed oil were placed on a table. At 8 o’clock, it was an appointment that nobody could miss. My memorable moment in this room area was as soon I lie down on this carpet I fell asleep. I always knew the right time to wake up to say ‘’Amen’’ and ‘’good night’’ to my parents and brothers.
Right next to the prayer room was the spacious dining room with a long dining table of 10 chairs that showed clearly how my parents were so organized. The utensils and plates were so clean and placed in a shelf. Mom received them from her grandmother. My mom was a good cooker and had different menus every week. She cooked with love what makes her foods delicious. The smell of her Sunday meals could reach the neighbors’ house. I did not really like helping her in the kitchen. It was her biggest problem with me at home.
The variety of colors of my house, the architecture and location always surprised and awakened the curiosity of people. Beside the beauty, the most important thing for me was the life and education that I had in this house. My parents taught us love, discipline, patience and strength to never give up in life. They taught us that education is the best way. I miss waking up every morning without helping my mom with her flowers, going to bed every night without going to the prayer room with my family. My house was a happy place, a place that I dream about every night. I want to hear my dad’s turtledoves that were so annoying at night, now that I know their importance. These birds knew and enjoyed the atmosphere of my place, which is why they loved to sing every day and every night. If I had to ask God for something right now, it would be to bring those moments back to life.
