The Power of a Home

         

Baptiste          3

Terra Baptiste
E. Doyle
English 11AP (5)
7 January 2019

The Power of a Home

Growing up Kindergarten was rough for me. Very often I would get suspended, this time was for cutting a girls pony off. Shocking right? With a brain moving too fast for my teachers let alone myself, I was always on the move with new things becoming easily bored. The result of which often lead to claims of insubordination and with that suspension. Meanwhile having a working mom meant no one was around to watch a kindergartener while I wasn't in school, so I was shipped off to my grandmother's most of the time. We call her memom, and her house became a second home.
Being called down to the office was never fun and it typically was from my over the top behavior. I've come a long way.
Over loud speaker: "Can Terra Baptiste come down to the principal's office, Terra Baptiste to the principal's office."
I let out a quiet huff while the rest of the class so graciously let loose a chorus of "oooos". And I found my way on the never ending the journey down to the office.
My mother arrived at my school fuming because she had to leave work early. The ride home from school, sentenced with a 3 days suspension, was tense and silent. I was timid, but inside I couldn't help but feel excited for what was to come. After packing my bags my mom called my memom, they had a brief conversation and then I was loaded into the car. My mom drove without saying a word. Trees zoomed past my line of sight, and the ride suddenly became longer and longer. What's the plan for these three days? The ride was nerve wracking, I felt nauseous with butterflies. Almost not being able to contain the joy, but keeping it together in sake of myself. Can't show my mom that I'm happy to be suspended, that would only land me in more trouble. One hour turned to 15 minutes quickly.
We arrived at a familiar house, my memom's. The rush of emotion that filled me was like a kid in a candy store. My memom stood at the door as we pulled up, waving us inside. Warm, inviting, welcoming--the house beckoning me inside. My memom was a little 5'4 lady with short always styled brown hair with touches of silver peeking through and a smile that could make anyone's day. I ran into her ready arms for the usual bone-crushing hug.
"Can't breathe," I whispered.
"Oh! I'm sorry sweetie." she said. "Go into the kitchen and I'll be in there to make a snack."
I rush into the kitchen, waiting for my mom to finish talking to her. Once finished talking my Memom walks into the kitchen.
"What do you want to do today," she asked excitedly.
"Everything," I replied ready for where the day took us.
My Memom's house was my home away from home. A safe haven for me to be my own person. A little quiet two story house that seemed straight out of a 90's sitcom. A house pushed so far back in my memories yet I can still feel the plush rug underneath my toes and the smell of moth balls and old cinnamon incense burning my nose. The living room had a glass chandelier that would display crazy shapes when the drapes were open and natural light would flood through. I would get the feeling as if I was in the center of a diamond, my own little palace. Often woken up by the smell of eggs, pan cooked bacon, and biscuits cooking in the kitchen. Afternoons spent learning how to play solitaire on the desktop in the office on a black leather spiny chair so high my feet couldn't touch the ground. The two musketeers out on the town shopping and running errands. Nights spent eating ice cream on the sofa while playing cards, and sleeping in the guest bedroom.
Everything bad that happen before stepping foot into the house simply melts away once inside. No judgement, no misunderstanding, no more being the odd ball out. I was able to be heard. I was my own person. Not "the bad kid" or "the kid looking for attention", I was Terra. The over active one, the inquisitive one, too smart for her own good. Inside that house I was able to be focused on and not tossed to the side by way older siblings or a single parent that worked too hard. The house taught me how to be my true self under any circumstance. I've learned that having a place that allowed you to be your true self is important especially as an impressionable child.
Once the three days are over my mom comes back to pick me up and the fun is over. They always say goodbyes are the hardest pills to swallow.