My Favorite Place Essay

When I think about my favorite place, I think about a place I can write a book about. I think about a place that I have known my entire life. I also think about how important it is to me. It is warm and cozy, and it always smells good. This place I am describing is my mother’s kitchen at home in my hometown of Brownsville, Tennessee. My mother’s kitchen is huge, and I have so many memories there. The reminiscing and laughs with my family are priceless. I have learned all the things I need to know about cooking, cleaning, and basically maintaining a good environment. My mom told me that those things are important because I will have a family of my own in the future. Christmas is one of the best times with my family in my mom’s kitchen. My mother’s

I love when the holidays come because this means two of my favorite things are going to take place: eating food and giving/receiving gifts. We also clear out the kitchen to host Christmas games and have a dance competition. However, that changed after November 7, 2010. Half of my family lives in Decatur, Illinois (grandma, grandpa, aunties, uncles, and cousins). The other half of my family lives in my hometown, Brownsville, Tennessee (mom, dad, sister, and my two brothers). My family from Decatur travels down to Brownsville for Christmas every year. This has transpired ever since I was a little girl. Everyone would gather in the kitchen to help cook the food. When the food is prepared, all the children huddle up in the kitchen at the pleasant smell of food. My great grandmother always says grace. After we sit down at the kitchen table and say grace, there would be so much confusion because everyone is passing food in many directions. My mom always hollers across the table about passing the rolls; she loves bread. My grandmother always hollers about passing the collard greens. All the commotion eventually calms down. When we are done eating, all of the children get excited, because they know it is time to pass out gifts. The grownups get excited as well, but they refuse to show it. My grandpa always buys everyone the expensive gifts, so we all look forward to what “Papa”

On July 2013, we received a call from my aunt, leader of family events, Nesha. She said it was not like us to be down and depressed. It sure was not like us to not celebrate Christmas. We spent hours on the phone with her planning the Christmas to come. My aunt informed the entire family about the dinner we planned and special surprise for my grandmother. Of course, it was going to be at my mom’s house, in the kitchen. It was very obvious that Christmas was not the same without my grandfather. As the food was being prepared, my grandmother was pulling into the driveway. She walked in the house and hugged everyone. We all looked at her as if something was wrong. She asked us why we were looking at her so strangely. My mom told her to turn around. There it was, a memorial for my grandpa in his favorite place in the kitchen, the top chair facing