When did your parents' house stop being home?

For me, it was when they got divorced and had to sell the house. That was when I was 18 and I had already moved out. It was harder on my younger brother because he was still living with them when it happened.

The day I moved out – but it was home again when I needed it.

This is a difficult question for me. It was a sanctuary and home for many years growing up and into adolescence. But there came a day when I was threatened with being thrown out should I ever come out of the closet and declare my homosexuality in our little town. Being homeless was a terrifying thought, and the home I knew became a kind of prison. That prison persisted in my mind for many years. Decades actually.

My parents and I have reconciled, but only after much heartache. Still, I’m welcome there now. And upon my arrival for a visit when I see the Bible in “my” room open to Leviticus, I can close it with aplomb.

When my mother sold the house I grew up in and married my step-father and moved in with him. He’s a wonderful man but I never lived in his house so it was never home to me.

It never felt like home. The first time I didn’t dread going home is when I was 15 and put some clothes and a radio in a garbage bag and hopped on a greyhound bus to Oregon the live with my sister.

It stopped when I came by after four months of being abroad (I emigrated) and my parents weren’t too happy to see me. I felt so unwelcome and excluded that I don’t want to return there, let alone stay in their house.

When I left at 18 to go to boot camp, although she says it can still be a home to me, but that would only be a last resort. I would have to be homeless for that to happen.

The day I moved out at age 19. It hasn’t felt like home at all since then.

This is a perfect question for yours truly, since I am about to sell my parents home. They are both deceased and I have no use for their(my) home, anymore.

It was so difficult just to sit in a chair and sell their worldly possessions, piece by piece in an estate sale. There were so many good memories in their house, that it was mind-boggling for me. I lived with them, there, from age 9 to 21.

It’s time now for their home to be sold to other people, so they can create their own family memories.

I close on their home on Sept. 2. 2011.

Their home will always be a home and not just a house. The warm atmosphere there, will always be…..forever.

After my mom died and my dad remarried.

Morning Lucy!!!

Oh, I suppose it was the day I left for college. While I didn’t really think of it as “moving out” at the time, the fact that my mother had already redecorated my room within the first month was a big hint that she considered it my moving out.

Once I graduated college, I married and started my life apart from my parents. My mother died in her sleep in that home a few years ago—it was very, very strange to walk back into it and begin the work of selling it. And I know my daughter will one day be faced with a similar fate.

@john65pennington Good morning,John! :)

It hasn’t yet, despite having moved out almost 30 years ago. It will when Mom dies and the house is sold.

When I left for college in another city. My parents moved within the year to the same city I was going to school in, but there was no room for me there and no memories.

Actually, I went to see the house I graduated from High school in, and I didn’t really remember it at all. (We had only lived there one year when I left.)

I still have multiple homes that feel like home. My brother bought our old home and it still feels like home, my parents home, where I lived for awhile still feels like home, and my place feels like home. i’m completely comfortable in all of them. I think I was just blessed with a wonderful family.

When mom moved. All my life I knew that if I ever was in trouble, I could always go home. I would always have a place to live. When mom sold her house and moved Into an apartment, I told her the tables had turned. Now she knew that if she ever needed it, I would always have a place for her.

My feelings about my parents’ home have bounced around crazily in the past year.

I moved out to college, and was very homesick. College didn’t feel like “home” yet. However, when I went back to my parents’ house for a weekend during the term, it felt weird. It didn’t feel like home either, it felt like a place I was staying for a weekend.

Then I moved back home when I found out I had to have surgery, and it took a while, but I had to readjust and fall back into my old routines, and now it feels like home again.

I think it will permanently cease to feel like home when I go back to college and start making that adjustment all over again.

After I left for college, they turned my room into a storage room. But I spent most of the summer before that staying with a friend, and only my stuff was at my parents’ house. I didn’t find out until I came back for Christmas, and they said there was an air mattress for me in the basement if I wanted to stay. I spent the break with friends and later, rented my own place by campus.

My aunt’s house still feels like home, though. It’s actually the house I grew up in as a little kid, but she bought it after my parents divorced. Nobody ever threw anything out, so I keep going through storage and finding old photos and things from back in the 1980s. It’s really comfortable there.

When my parents moved while I was still in college. They didn’t tell me about it until after they had moved. Sheesh.

They still gave me a room. But all my stuff was still in boxes and I didn’t know where anything was because I didn’t pack it.

It was just weird. A strange unsettling feeling. A slight unanticipated shift of how you think you know the world. Luckily, I was already feeling at home in college and the bay area.

When my parents moved into an apartment. I had to sleep on the couch when I visited. That’s definitely NOT home.

It’s still home. Sure, I live in Palo Alto during college, but I can still go back to my parents’ house (which is only a couple miles away) and I still have a room there and a fair amount of my stuff there. I hope it always feels like home…

After five failed marriages, my daughter asked if she could move back in with her mother and I. We never hesitated, to tell her yes. She has been here for three days and like she said, its as if she never left. Her children and grandchildren are still in Seattle and this should be interesting to see how all of them cope without their mother. One has already run out of gasoline and called 3,000 miles for advice on what to do. Anyway, my daughter states her(our) home is still the same as if she never left. My daughter has a disease and needs our assistance. We are more than happy to give it to her, as well as our house. She is a great daughter and a great nurse. She has just not found mr. right, yet.

When I moved out and into my own apartment. From there on, wherever my parents lived was theirs and wherever I lived was “home”.

When my mom moved out and my brother stay behind. I would visit but it didn’t feel like home without her being there.

About 18 years before I moved out.

My parents passed on over 25 years ago, and their house and belongings were sold or donated to charity.

The house I am now living in was supposed to be temporary, for about 5 years or so, but we have lived here for 22 years now. My youngest son calls it home, and my grandsons have never known any other place, they call it Grandma’s House.

They are all familiar with every nook and cranny. My son asked me to please not sell it, because he wants to live here with his family when I don’t want it anymore.

We are in a bind right now, because the house I bought for him and his family is worth half of what we paid for it, and way below what we still owe on it. My house has also dropped below what we owe on it, even though we have been paying on our mortgage ever since we moved here. Our equity is in the minus range.

When I was somewhere around twelve. I don’t remember the exact circumstances that made it such, but it certainly ceased to be home at that point.

I love fluther. Thanks for sharing.