Descriptive essay

I Loved It, Without Knowing I Loved It

Being raised as “Poor White Trash” in the swamps of Florida does little to help one appreciate his or her surroundings. That sort of person does not go hunting and fishing for sport, but for survival. Take that same Poor White Trash, put him in a military uniform, and send him to an extremely arid, desolate place. The perspective he has will change dramatically about where he was raised. He will then take notice of how the swamp is full of life. He will then know that he loves it. He will call it beautiful.
The three-bedroom wooden house I lived in as a child was just barley big enough for 6 people to live in. In fact, my first bed was the third drawer of my sister’s dresser. The house itself is not what I want to discuss, but its surroundings. It was surrounded by a beautiful swampland. Because of being raised in it, I never appreciated it. The two-lane road that connected this land to “civilization” was the only escape ro...