The house I live in is built of brick and stone. It’s the place I call
home.
My house is like your house
I wondered about the big house on my block. One day my mother and I went
there to visit. I saw tables, chairs, beds, and cupboards. I told the
owner, “Your house is like my house.”
I visited a small house. I saw windows, doors, ceilings, walls, and
floors. I said, “My house is like your house.”
One house was big. The other was small. Yet they were alike because both
houses were built for people to live in.
Not all people need the same kind of house. My grandparents once lived
in a big house. Then their children grew up and had houses of their own.
My grandparents live in a small apartment now. It is just right for
them.
Grandma and Grandpa live in a small apartment in a big building. It is
their home.^1^
My uncle moves his trailer-house when he goes to a new job. A house that
can be moved from place to place is right for him.
My cousin lives in a townhouse.
A house may be made of brick, wood, cement, or even blocks of ice. It
may be big, small, plain, or beautiful. My house is a safe place. It is
the place where I eat, sleep, and rest. It is the place I know and love.
When I am rested I am eager to leave my house to explore new places. But
I always come home.
