What are your memories of your childhood home?

I have lovely memories of the house, I did feel safe there. And Lordy, it had so many places to hide!

The odd thing about my childhood home is how few memories I associate with it. I actually remember more about my grandma’s home than my own.
I went back there (it was overseas) when I was 17 and, although it had shrunk in size, it still felt like home whenever I walked into it. It was a two story corporation house with three small bedrooms upstairs, a hall, dining room/kitchen and living room with small fireplace downstairs. The toilet was out the back door and on the left side of the little porch. It had a green door and I remember freezing my huevos off in the winter when I had to use it. Grandma had a picture of the sacred heart of Jesus over the fireplace. You had to go out to the coal shed and bring in buckets of coal to get the fire going. Warm, cozy and constantly abuzz with family and friends of family.

I lived in too many houses to pick just one.

I also lived in many but there was one that stood out more than any other. It was out in rural western north carolina and exploring all of the raw wilderness as a kid to teenager made some seriously lasting memories. There was a large waterfall and hiking trails within a mile of it and a patch of old growth forest. There was also a pasture with a great trout stream that I fished in constantly just a few hundred yards from our porch.

I felt safe, loved, unstoppable. Free to explore or ask questions. Free to run and play at the pond, barn, bikes with friends, persimmon fights, field baseball. Excited to be there with family, they were interesting. Lots of music and books.

Mixed.

I felt safe overall, but my mom put enough fear into me that there were scary people out there, and with that I was a little wary. My parents always showed up for me on time, and so they were very reliable in that way, and so I felt safe regarding dependability.

My parents were funny and loved music and to dance and overall were easy going people. That was all positive for me.

They also fought a lot, and the house was very messy once I hit around age 12 and got worse and worse, as I got older, which sucked.

From my mom I felt unconditional love, but from my dad it felt more conditional, as an adult I know it wasn’t.

My dad constantly talked and talked and talked, and it was a source of stress and a burden.

When I was young I loved playing with my little sister. She was so cute! I would make good for her, and spin her around and she would giggle, and I just thought she was adorable. We are 2.5 years apart. Sure sometimes we had a scuffle, or I wanted to play with other friends, but mostly I am so glad I had a sister. As I became a teen the dynamic changed. I was gone more.

One last thing; I’m extremely grateful my parents didn’t force me to eat food I didn’t like. That would have felt like a torture camp to me. I knew it even as a kid.

Happy, carefree & loving, so much love & mutual respect.
My parents were divorced when I was only six, leaving my mam bringing up 3 boys as a single parent, would have had a sister too but sadly she died at only six weeks old due to heart related problems.
We all bonded tremendously in no small part due to both of those dramatic & tragic losses, divorce can feel like losing a parent, particularly at such a young age.
As I say, despite this, we grew up not only as a family but felt like best friends too, hugely grateful & contributed a lot to my positive outlook on life that I retain today.
Cheers Mam…for everything x

I lived in my childhood home until I was 19, so my memories from there range from my very earliest childhood memories of dragging my blankey around the house all the way through my year of medical leave from college.

My illness didn’t start until after my sister had left for college, and I basically moved into her bedroom whenever I was sick because I had a loft bed in my room that didn’t mesh well with late-night bathroom trips or IV poles. So my childhood bedroom is pretty much untainted by sad memories of being sick, and I kind of think of my sister’s room as the sick room.

My fondest memories are of relaxing in the back yard on summer nights. We had a beautiful back yard surrounded by woods and a little fire pit that we roasted marshmallows over. My mom presided over an enormous garden where she grew flowers and veggies galore.

I get nostalgic about that house, and that town. It was a very small, pastoral town where I always felt safe. Big contrast to my current city life. Only upon returning there as an adult who has lived elsewhere do I recognize certain things: the poverty that was rampant right under my nose the whole time, how strange it is that the population is like 98% white, the excessive density of barns and silos. I would never live there again, but I do miss certain things about it. Sometimes I think what I’m really missing is being a kid and not having fears or responsibilities, and that the town is just a stand-in for that.