Even though I was born in Atlanta, Georgia, home to me is Macon, Georgia. Out of my eighteen years of life, twelve of them have been spent in Macon. Cruising down Wesleyan Woods Drive, the second house on the left lies something special to me, home. I live in a somewhat big house, even though it looks smaller from the outside. One unique thing that separates it from all the other houses is the driveway. It is the only black asphalt driveway on the street. It makes it easy to tell people to look for the black driveway and then you’re here. My house is a one story house with five bedrooms and four baths. It has a swimming pool, hot tub, and a back patio. But there is one place in my home that makes it home to me, my bedroom. Down the hall, second door on the left, is my kingdom. I have a king size bed with the most comfortable mattress in the world. There is not one thing of light coming into my room. It stays so dark in there that someone could sleep for days without knowing the time of day.
Another thing that makes Macon home to me is that my entire family lives in Macon. Three doors down is my Cousin’s house. On the other side of the street is my Grandmother’s house. Five minutes away is my Dad’s house. I even count my close friends as family, and they too all live right near me.
Every time you get with a group of people, stories tend to lead to childhood times. Childhood memories are the best to talk about because it brings back old thoughts and laughter. Childhood memories remind me of all my times in Macon. There is never a time in Macon where you cannot find someone who will give you comfort when you need it. That’s what makes Macon home to me.
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