I miss the sound of their grandfather clock chiming throughout the day. I'd never have one myself, but it so reminds me of their house!

being warm with each other and deep wells.

My parents.

the closet sized kitchen where gourmet food magically appeared.

My dad could fix anything (my husband can't and neither can I so I miss having things fixed on the spot)!, the house was always so well maintained. We have to call in professional help for everything and something always seems to break down. I still get to visit my parents and the house since they are still well, married to each other and living in the same house I grew up in.

My Dad.

The front porch and the spring water.

Our home on the farm had lots of different yards and outbuildings for me to play in and have a whole imaginary town in. The house was two old houses put together sometime before 1917. It was small for a family of 6 but they made it work with an attic bedroom. Mom & Dad moved to town 8 years ago. It's falling apart now and my husband and I are in charge of tearing it down this summer...

the feeling of welcome when you got there,no matter what time of day or night

the screen door slamming ......

The polished 30s modern dark green linoleum, in the living room.

My family all together, simple times no cares, love of family under one roof

Forced air gas heat. . .and picking and eating fresh peas from the garden.

The front porch and swing

My parents!

living on the lake.....

My family, what my dad called our "rare tree", and my imaginary world below the front sidewalk.

My dad, the house itself means nothing to me. It was a non-descript 1950's brick ranch house that was far too small for our family.

There was a playhouse built by the previous owners (who also built the main house). It was an amazing playhouse... front porch, shutters, window boxes and Dutch door. We spent many hours (and nights) in that little house. A section of the interior had a huge chalk board that you could pull down and use as a counter top. Sadly, it's all long gone...the property is now an Arby's in Farmington Hills, Michigan.

Mom's cooking, Sabbath dinner with the extended family, seeing my cousins and aunts nearly every day, gardening with Grandpa...

Hated the house I grew up in. Ugly brown ranch with 3 bedrooms down, an attic redone into 2 bedrooms, a bathroom and walk-in closet in hallway leading to balance of attic space. Very small finished basement that was so dismal nobody wanted to make use of it. It had awful claustrophobic landscaping also. My parents didn't care for it either but bought it because it had enough rooms for 4 kids and, the price was right (mid 1960's). They never really did anything to make it better other than some paint and wallpaper here and there and a minor (very) kitchen upgrade. Everyone was thrilled when they finally sold it to move elsewhere.

My step-dad's amazing cooking every night. Living with my siblings, family movie nights, their pool, not having to pay a bunch of bills :-) Being a kid! The coziness of their home.

My mum's house was a big old double brick Californian bungalow built in 1925. I miss how cool the house was in a scorching Sydney summer and its warmth in winter. But most of all I miss my mum and her warm and safe arms.

My parents. The house I've loathed since it was built. On stilts (since built in), poorly insulated, no privacy and sound travelled through it so easily. My mother is aware that once she & Dad have gone, that place is getting bulldozed - and then I'll probably be dealing with asbestos. Given this Mum will probably leave the house to my sister :)

The neighborhood and all the get together. Street parties, etc. It used to be such fun as a kid. Our street is anti-social. :(

Mom and Dad. Then putting on variety shows in the garage for the neighbors. And turning garage into Halloween haunted house complete with over cooked noodles that kids had to put their hands in while blindfolded. We told them it was worm guts! Ahh, the good ol' days are gone. Thanks for posting this question.

Which one? My Dad was a builder so we moved every 3-4 years for the most part.

Dad, and mom's missing leg.

I lived in quite a few houses but the one I did most of my growing up in was a small two bedroom cap cod. When my youngest sister was born we needed more room so my parent remodeled the unfinished second level to include two additional bedrooms and a bath. One of those bedrooms became mine and I loved it! I was 13 at the time and this was the first time I had my own room! I loved that room!

Easy. I miss my Dad. He passed 11 years ago and the house has felt "empty" ever since.

The kitchen table. my
dad wrote a conservation column for the local newspaper and I remember the squeek before he started to write,,I would wait in my bed before I fell asleep just to hear/or feel his excitement. Also Mom always had something in the oven baking when my sister came home from school and everyhting spotless..pretty special.

The living room. There were two huge, curved couches that truly comfortably sat 3 each (4, if you really liked each other); they surrounded a tall, round coffee table and faced the fireplace. That space was so inviting and comfortable and so conducive to talk, we spent most of our time as a family in there...Dad would read to us as we sprawled out on the coffee table drawing or tucked into the couch corners working on crafts, or we'd gather around the table for board or card games (those were the best!), or in the middle of the afternoon you'd find four grown (or nearly-grown) people napping on those great big couches. It's still the best room in that house, and it's my muse for how I want my own home to make people feel.

The thing I miss most is the "magic" hamper. I'm not really sure what was so special about it but it never failed. Put clothes in the day before and the next day they were folded and placed on your bed the next. Weird right??? lol

I miss spending hours and hours each day reading in the hammock stretched between two huge oak trees in the backyard. I would make two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, mix up some lemonade, and spend entire days out there during summer.

my dad but other than that nothing...my mom still lives there and believe it or not i still have my room there...lol and i am 60

this house pictured here is magnificient

My underfloor heating

the couch in the kitchen

I am very fortunate that my parents are still living in the house I grew up in, so I'm able to go back there to see them whenever I want. One thing their house has that I wish mine had is an 8 ft. wide patio door.

Like Meyer Contracting, it isn't a "thing" but a smell. I do all I can to bring it in, when I cook. Breathe deep. There they are- your parents!

My Mom, it's been 15 years since she passed away. My Dad still lives in the house but it will never be the same.

A house is just a structure, a family is something else entirely. I left both at age 17 and never looked back.

keeping the door unlocked so all of the neighbors could just drop by, visit and snack on some my mothers baking.