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MY home

I had lived in that house for 16 years. It was not our family’s possession. The owner was my dad’s company, but I still think this was OUR house. I was born, grew up and studied there.

Last summer, I heard that we had to move before long because our house was too old and too dangerous to live in. “I don’t believe that news!” I said to my parents. I was so shocked. My parents were also shocked. I took it for granted that we would keep living there as long as my father works for the company. Furthermore, however weak the house looked, I believed that if my house were repaired, it would be strong enough to live in.

However, the company did not change the decision. We were forced to move. In preparation for the move, I couldn’t help remembering my memories with our old house. “Why don’t you take pictures of the house?” my mother said. 　 “OK. That’s a good idea.” I said. 　 I decided to take pictures, and tried to take one, but I couldn’t. Unexpectedly, I was crying !

Now, I live in a new house. I am making new memories with my new house. I sometimes hear the rumor about my former house. “Your house is incredibly desolate!” 　 “It is terrible!” 　 I agree with those opinions. People who know my former house probably know how terrible it is. People who don’t know will know how terrible it is if they just look at it.

However terrible it is, I still love my former house. It has makes me what I am. I have many memories with it. I never forget the house.