Chapter 5— MY HOUSE

If you are an Australian, you'd sometimes be referred to as 'Aussie' or 'Ozzie'. It was always quite funny to me, I usually called David or Stella like that Hey Aussie! or How you doing Ozzie? It's funny.

We are a combination of different people, cultures, beliefs and languages. Some of us believe in the supernatural. Our English sounds different from other English speakers, it sounds almost like the British way of speaking English. There are Asian, Italians, and so many others amongst us.

It doesn't always rain and I love it but when it rains, it pours, the warmth of the sun and the breeze are quite refreshing. We've got beaches and oceans, tropical forests, mountains, hills, reefs and rivers. It is truly splendid! A place worth seeing.

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I lived in a brown coloured-roofed house, it was quite little with few windows and doors. It was a few miles away from the Coal Mine where my Father worked, David and his family were our closest neighbours.

There was a little fire place in the seating room and a chimney that grew in the wall and out through the roof. My home was a brownish beauty!

It felt faded and dark and sometimes lonely, but it was home.

There were just 3 rooms-- my room, Father's room and the Parlour, they were simple and convenient. I had a little low bed with a clean white bed sheet on it. A chair and a desk, sat close to the window in front of the bed.

The mirror was rectangular and little, just tightly fixed on the wall. A blue basket held my little things-- from the combs, ribbons, pins, to two pairs of earrings.

I kept my clothes in a brown dark closet. I had ten gowns— all with different colours each. My all time favourite was a red and white striped gown.

My shoes were neatly arranged below the gowns in a closet. I had three pairs of shoes— a flat white pair of sneakers, a pair of red wedges and a black pair of boots. I loved my little simple room. I hid in it everyday, sometimes.

Father's room wasn't always open but few times I got in, was when he told me stories, when I had nightmares as a little child or when I just welcomed him home. His room was dark too with a window, a brown shelf for his books, a big blue box holding his few clothes, a chair and table sat by the window.

There was a slightly bigger bed than mine, some boots in the corner, his helmet and work clothes, carried by a nail on the wall.

We had no carpets or rugs like the other homes, it was just our peaceful little home with a Father and a Daughter in it. Father came home from work everyday by 5 pm, except during the weekends. He would be so exhausted and covered in dark smoke. It was quite a little funny and pitiful to see him fall asleep on the chair every night.