Seattle was the first place that I could ever really call home. Although I have lived in many places in the United States, the day I set foot on Washington's soil I called Seattle my home. And for as long as I live, I will never forget this special place I call home.

Although I have lived in many beautiful houses, living in an old apartment is not so bad. I know I do not have to worry about what hotel I am going to stay in, or what and when we will be moving into a new home. For my family, moving could be as far as across the country. And I really do not like changing rooms about every six months, nor do I like changing furniture too. So, for me, my old apartment is next to utopia. I have decided to settle here, if not for good, for a long while.

My uncle and I have grown a garden which I tend regularly; I enjoy doing too. It seems as though my daisies are as colorful as a brilliant rainbow, my bushes of roses have red as deep as blood, and the golden yellow pansies are as bright as the sun on a clear day. I take care of our garden as if they are a part of me for I believe they are living beings just as we are; without them I would not be complete. I enjoy sharing my home with other plants and animals ev

en though sometimes I feel as though I am living in a miniature forest with plants sky-rocketing over my head as high as the ceiling. My home is my castle and I make it that way, comfortable.