In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Our House.”
My earliest memories take place in a small town home located in a little complex right behind my current high school. My parents moved in to the small town of Walnut Grove from their Vancouver apartment shortly before I was born. The room in the home I was given was located in the basement, and had been decorated with paintings all over the walls done by my uncle. I can barely remember the room at that point, as I had been very young, but one thing that I can always remember was the map of the world that I had beside my bed which I would stare at every night. We lived in that house for about three years, moving out shortly after my younger brother had been born. One memory I had when my mother was pregnant with my brother occurred when my parents purchased a bunk bed to set up in my room. Once it had been built, I went with my older cousin to check out the top bunk immediately. We sat up there for a few minutes until the boards gave way, and the bunk came crashing down. Luckily, there was no one underneath and no one was hurt. Later after my brother had been born, I recall once being at my neighbour’s house when a small earthquake struck and having to curl up behind the couch.