My beach house is really old. It was probably made in like the 80's, but we renevated it when I was like 8, so that was almost ten years ago. The house is a light beige , faded and worn. The wooden wrap around porch is squeaky and so faded the wood looks white. The inside is a open Floor. The kitchen is big, my mother loves making traditional Japanese food. My room is up the stairs, along with a spare room. My parents room are off the living room downstairs, along with 2 other spare rooms and 3 bathrooms. My dad parked the car and immediately climbed out the car. In two massive steps he was already behind the Car and popping the hood. My dad doesn't like to waste time. My mother and i on the other hand, just sat and looked at it for a couple minutes. This house holds so many memories. Finally my mom got out and I followed suit. I grabbed my only pink suitcase out of the trunk and made my way up the creeking stairs. I slowly made my way to my room, admiring all the pictures and decorations on the way there. I only get to come here once a year , so it seems new every time. I open my door and set my suitcase on my bed. My room is really small. I chose the smallest room because it seems so much more comfortable. My pink wallpaper is chipping and the bedspread has holes from sleeping on them so much. I have one dresser and one nightstand. The only thing on the nightstand is a bottle of Victoria secret lotion and a picture of my dad and I at St. Thomas a couple Years ago. Rightaway I open my suitcase and do my normal first day routine , put on my bikini and head to the beach .
