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The cozy gathering place smells of pine as the Christmas tree lights twinkle. The smell of fresh baked cookies floats in from the kitchen. In the background, you can faintly hear nostalgic holiday tunes. The cold leather couch and the warm wool blanket provided the perfect temperature as I layed there reflecting on the fond memories of years past. The evocations of the past were warm and I held them close to my heart, but they were almost painful. I long for the feeling of my childhood excitement for the holidays,

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In a nice cool room, protected by the warmth of my covers in my cozy bed. I could already hear the delightful sounds of college gameday blaring out from the downstairs TV. As I came to my senses I smelt the aroma of sweet bacon in the air. The moment was perfect

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Dust filled the air of the dirt-filled barn at my cousins ranch. A half-inflated basketball aged across the barn. Lots of hay was strewn across the floor and a smell of old, musty, water arose as you stepped through it. many a time I had worked in this very barn, whether trimming the horse's hooves, doctoring calves, or just working on a project at the rusty patina toolbench.

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The smell of cookies waft through the air as flour lines the counters. The sun behind the light green curtain fills the air, creating dust particles to shine.

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The living room. The place where the family gathers after a long day of chaos. You see backpacks and textbooks, laptops, and snacks scattered all around. Sitting on the couch we all rewind and take a breather. Silence fills the air at first, until laughter breaks the peace. As we all lean back and get comfortable we are blinded by the glistening sun through the window lifting the mood of our day.

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Towering glass windows surround the room. Light shining through them, blinding any onlooker. Chilly white tiles line the floor while vibrant red bricks stick out against the walls. Wide open space, unfilled, barren. The vast cool room empty because of the recent sale. Visions appearing in our heads of tall overflowing bookshelves, inviting couches and cozy blankets. We share these ideas and they echo off the walls and bring our imagination to life. This space once vacant, now decorated to our liking. The floor is still the same, the brick walls have not changed, but now it's ours. Our sun room.

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My grandma's dinning room is the central area for entertainment. Her long dark wooden table, always protected with a tablecloth for that season. The ancient chandelier that hung above our heads that glistened in the sun due to the jewels cascading off of it. The wafting of my grandmas cinnamon rolls from the kitchen and the shouting conundrum of football coming from her tv room. All these rooms connected, as you sit at the dinner table playing cards.

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The dining room. The place where the family gathers to eat. The light shining in through the windows illuminating the room. To the point where you only need natural light. The colorful plates and silverware contrasted with the dark black table. The sound of clanking like the wind in a storm. With everyone in my family eating their food.  You could hear the occasional sound of talking and laughter while people enjoyed their food.

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My grandparents house was a heart-warming hideaway. You first walk into a creaky old porch, you might expect to walk into a haunted house with a glossy red door. But as you are welcomed into the home you are greeted by a bright orange wall, with photos hanging all around. It is like walking into a apartment almost, very small, very comforting, but a family resides within. In the cool winter the whole house is warmed by a wooden stove, coughing out hot air for all the people staying there. The floor is creaky, and the carpet is rough, but that doesn't stop me from running around the house and taking a nap on the floor.  It always smelled like food, savory or sweet, all the scents wafted into my nose as i walked in.

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The overwhelming feeling of safety and comfort I get from walking into my grandparents house. After a 2 hour car ride we were always greeted with a warm smile, a hug, and food, A lot of food. It always smelled so good in their house but especially when there was a feast of ham, mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole. Christmas at my grandparents is always the best.

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Down daunting basement stairs, you go into a small toy room on the right side of the hallway. You enter and see the remnants of what looks like a battle ground Legos everywhere crayon marks all over the walls and mini sports balls made for children scattered on the floor. A kids dream and a parents cleaning nightmare one would say. Endless memories were made here along with many premature injuries from bruises and cuts to broken bones and deep incisions. Then you look into the corner to the forgotten toys the creepy robots that somehow worked without batteries, or the form nerf ball with a bite size hole in it. You can smell and feel the essence of the little sticky fingers after a meal prepared from the cute babysitter or the stinky diaper of your baby brother not quite potty trained.

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My basement, though oddly shaped, it was a breeding ground for many of my favorite childhood memories. One half had warm, comforting carpet. The other half was a cold, solidified floor. Both were seperated by enlarged columns that made an archway from one realm, to the next. When you crossed over, you could instanly feel the winter coming from the AC unit, and the humming of our large family deepfreeze. When I went down there, I didn't over stay my welcome for fear of becoming a permanent ice sculpture for display

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Before we bought the house, my bedroom was painted purple. The more horrendous, rotting smell of a color of purple. Dust covered all the walls, with occasional cat hairs sticking out sideways from the vent grates in the floor. The carpet shrieked in despair, as the foot traffic had tramped it almost down to dust.

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Blue that’s the color all over my grandma’s house as if a blue bomb just hit it. With the smell of cotton balls flowing into your noise. And all the old antiques making the most unique noises and breaking apart all the time as we used them. No matter where you were you could always hear the noise of the clock ticking over and over again.

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The basement. The place that makes kids run up the stairs scared of monsters or makes you fall asleep as soon as you touch the couch. The crisp feeling of air conditioning like no other place in the house is the perfect environment for people to hangout. The surround sound speakers make your insides shake making you feel like you are inside of the movie or music that is bouncing off of the walls. In the corner where there is a cheap plastic table with a felt green poker table is the place where kids gamble $10 just for the sake of memories with their friends. The cold, hard medal chair will always bring back the countless hours of playing poker with your best buds.

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Every Saturday night my grandma would go downstairs and start a movie, while my grandpa was upstair preparing the popcorn. When I was down in the basement, I would hear the popping kernels in the kitchen above me. While the movie was starting I would smell the buttery goodness waiting to be brought downstairs.

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The comfort I felt in my room was great. As I would walk into my room, I felt the warmth of the blankets that sat on my bed. The sun would shine through the windows on the wall. My desk that sat in the perfect nook in the wall.

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I remember the first time my mom taught me to cook spaghetti and meatballs in that kitchen. The aroma of simmering tomatoes and garlic filled the air. The meatballs, tender and juicy, sizzled as they came out of the oven, their fragrance promising a great meal at last. I'd watch in awe as the spaghetti, once stiff and lifeless, transformed in boiling water, becoming little dancing worms in the pot.

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The minute I walked into my grandma's kitchen, I smelled the uttermost delicious scent of her fresh ingredients from her garden as she prepared her famous macaroni salad. The refreshing smell of newly-grown cucumbers filled the air, while the boiling noodles in the hot steamy pot added a warm feel to the atmosphere. As she continued to add in all the ingredients and thoroughly mix everything together with her sweet dressing, my mouth began to drool with excitement to finally have some to eat.

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My sun room is a miniscule storage room for my fishing hobby and a placer to ease my mind from the loud noises of the house. Hefty smell of smoke from the traeger as if we were in the middle of a forest fire. Radio bursting your ear drums with christian music.

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My family's weight room was downstairs in the basement. Whenever you walked in you could feel the texture of the concrete floor on your feet and the cold from it seeping through your skin. My dad's desk in the left corner, shattered with books and cassette taps the knowledge on that table could fill a library. the bench on the right side of the room with weights stacked beside it like a layered cake, the feeling is like no other.

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Being surrounded by family, while sitting around each other in the living room. Hearing the slow crinkle of wrapping paper as people opened gifts. We all waited in excitement to see what was next. The smell of burning wood fills the air, while also providing warmth to us all.

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The kitchen smelled of sugar and milk. The combination beckoned me to stay. The shiny glare of the black marble counter tops glistened in the light of the sun. The birds chatter crept in through the slight crack in the glass door. The sound of the old wooden fan swirled around above me. It was the place I could stay forever, it was a safe place for me in my own world.