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My childhood is filled with many memories, many attachments seem to never be home, in which the most attached thing is that house, the house built by my father. The house designed by my father when I was 3 years old, since then it has become a warm cradle for me. My house is not like a city mansion, it is just a house Two floors were swept evenly in cool green paint. My house has a small garden in front to plant trees, my mother used to say that the plants that grow themselves will taste better because they take care of themselves ... My father divided into four rooms, in which the first was the living room, the second was the parent's room, it continued to be the kitchen where warm meals and finally upstairs was my room. Because my room was upstairs, it was very spacious because I thought that my room was the largest, so I kept rambling away so I often got scolded by my mother for sloppiness. Although my house is just that, the structure is simple, simple and not fussy, but I love it very much ...

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