Shawn Jennings

9/19/14

Professor Young

English 1100

Favorite Place

            I walk into my house and the first thing I notice is the smell that engulfs my nostrils.  It’s not an awful smell by any means.  It’s a fresh smell, like the smell of freshly picked fruit.  Every day I come home and take one step into my house I smell this scent.  It almost puts me in a trance and it sort of calms me down after a long day. 

After taking in the smell I take off my book bag and set it down on the oak colored hard wood floor.  I then take off my shoes and place them on the tan wool rug where the rest of families shoes are scattered.  After this I make my way over to my cream colored couch which is made of the softest leather.  I lay down and it is like I am floating on a cloud.  I reach for the remote and turn on the television. 

The TV lets out a huge booming sound that almost makes my ears bleed.  I start to cover my ears and wonder why the television was set to sixty out of one hundred.  I realize my Dad had come home for lunch and turned the TV volume so high it could be heard four houses down.  After turning the volume down to a soft twenty-five I watch a quick fifteen minutes of television before dinner. 

When my Mom yells, “dinner is ready!” I find it hard to get off the couch.  It’s almost like I am sinking deeper and deeper into the cloud that is my couch.  My Mother yells again, “dinner is ready, Shawn!” but I just can’t find the energy to escape the softest couch in the world.  Eventually, my hunger gets the best of me because I begin to smell the freshness of my Mom’s potato leek soup.  I spring off the couch and sprint to my chair.  I grab my smooth silver spoon and start to heave spoonful after spoonful into my gaping mouth.  After my second spoonful I feel a burning sensation on my tongue and around my whole mouth.  I spit out the delicious potato leek soup almost three feet across the table. 

Luckily, my brother, Karl, was not sitting across from me just yet.  I apologize to my Mom and clean up our brown wooden table.  Now I sit back down in my chair and remember to blow on the soup before shoving it down my throat.  Every spoonful is like filling my mouth with joy.  It’s not too thick and it is not too watery.  The soup fills every part of my mouth perfectly and the taste is so pleasant.  Every slurp is sensational.