Missing my childhood home

Tweet

Whenever I see pictures of videos or hear stories about adults getting to go back home and sleep in their childhood bedrooms, or hang out with their parents who are still together, part of me feels a little sad/jealous. I'm always happy for them, and hope they can appreciate how special that opportunity is. Most of the time I don't think about how different my adult life is from my childhood. I don't dwell on the fact that my parents aren't together anymore, or that my childhood home is no longer even standing, but there are times I genuinely miss the place that was my first home. I miss having both of my parents under one roof, even if they weren't the closest. I sometimes wish I had parents who could have made it work, but that just isn't the life I had. I'm grateful to have both of my parents, because I know some people would give anything to have both of their parents still alive, whether they were together or not. I know some people wish their parents loved them, because they had abusive parents. I know how fortunate I am, and that while my situation isn't the best situation, it's far from the worst. I had two parents who loved me, despite not loving each other. I have two parents I can visit, even if it's not in my childhood home, and that's usually how I think about my life; I don't dwell on other things most of the time. Part of me just wishes I could go home, to the place I knew as a child, and I know I'll never have that. Our house wasn't fancy; it was old and in disrepair, but it was my home, and I loved it there. It was the place I played with my friends; I made so many memories there, and I wish I could just walk through the front door after a particularly bad day and lie in my childhood bed for a minute. I wish my parents could have been closer and loved each other the way they both needed and deserved, but the reality is I don't have that, and it's ok. I wish I could have taken my son to my childhood home and dropped him off with both of my parents, but the reality is my son has mostly known my parents separately; he has only seen them together a handful of times. He doesn't know a world in which my parents were ever together. I hear people telling stories about how they sent their kids to their parents' house and the kids sleep in their childhood bedrooms. I would have loved that experience for my son. My parents both love me, though, and both of them have always done whatever they could for me, and I know how unbelievably fortunate I am to have that. I just hope those who have the happily married parents who still live in their childhood homes can also appreciate what they have. A house is just a house, but sometimes you still miss the house you grew up in, and I've found myself really missing my childhood home lately. All of the memories I created there, and wishing I could just step back inside for a minute. It wasn't a perfect house, not by a long shot, but it was all I knew for the first 12 years of my life, and I miss it sometimes. I wish my dad had been able to take better care of it and hold onto it, but he couldn't afford it, and it got to the point where there was too much damage to repair it. I often wish I had the money to build a replica of my childhood home, but maybe add a basement.