essay on childhood home

• Family & Relationship Issues

Revisiting Your Childhood Home, "Remembrance of Things Past"

Allan Schwartz, LCSW, Ph.D. was in private practice for more than thirty years. He is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker in the states ...Read More

Did you ever have the experience of returning to the house you grew up in? If so, did you have the experience that the house and its rooms were much smaller than they seemed when you were a child? Did you remember the backyard as very large only to discover, as an adult, how small it really was?

This is a case study of a man who, when he reached the age of sixty, decided he wanted to visit the old neighborhood. He had several reasons for wanting to do this. When he and his friends got together, there was a tendency to reminisce about the past and life back then. Generally, the theme was about the “good old days,” and how those were the best of times compared to the world now. He hoped to recapture memories of his parents and extended family. Maybe just turning sixty was reason enough for wanting to go back. For one, he had nostalgic feelings about the old place.

However, the outcome of his visit was not good. The man came away feeling depressed and empty. He vowed never to do that again. He discovered that the old neighborhood was narrow, stifling and gloomy. He remembered that this was the reason for moving away and onward with his life.

He realized that those were not the “good” old days, but that the “good” days are right now. Maybe, for some people, memories are better than reality. Indeed, the saying that, “You can’t go home” is true, at least for himself. In case there is any concern about violating confidentiality, that man is me.

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According to Psychology Professor, Jerry Burger, PhD, Santa Clara University, millions of people aged thirty and over, visit the home they lived in approximately from 5 to 12 years of age. For the sake of clarification, they don’t visit people from their past. Their interest is in visiting the home and neighborhood. What are their motivations?

According to Professor Burger, there are three reasons why people visit their childhood homes:

1. They have a wish to reconnect with their childhood. Because many things from the past are forgotten there is a hope that, by going back, they will be able to recapture memories that are important to them.

2. For some individuals who are going through a crisis or problem, there is a need to reflect on their past. They want to reevaluate how they developed their values and what led them to make the decisions they made.

3. As a result of having lived through abuse and trauma or having suffered from some kind of abuse or trauma, there is a hope that by returning to the site where these things happened, they can both find closure and leave with a sense that they have healed.

Dr. Burger reports that, while most people were happy they made the visit, there were three reasons why others weren’t. Much like my case above, these people did not get the hoped for results. For example, they discovered that unlike the romanticized memories, in reality, there was nothing romantic about the place. If they were happy there, they could not recapture that happiness and, for those who experienced abuse and trauma, the visit brought back pain rather than closure.

Returning to the concept of mindful living, too much time is spent living in the past or worrying about the future. A consequence is that we fail to appreciate now. As Thich Nhat Hanh, the great Buddhist teacher of meditation and mindful living, points out, we will never have this moment again, so, live it, experience it, be in the moment.

Your comments and questions are strongly encouraged.

Allan N. Schwartz, PhD

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The New York Times

Motherlode | revisiting a childhood home, revisiting a childhood home.

In this month’s Motherlode Book Club selection, “No Biking in the House Without a Helmet,” Melissa Fay Greene writes about building a family. Her construction materials go beyond genetics, as four of her children are biological, while four were adopted from Ethiopia, and one from Bulgaria.

While she builds that family, she also builds a home. Not literally — somehow all nine children fit in the house where four originally lived — but out of emotion, experience and memory, which is how so many of our homes are built.

In her particular family, the question of “Where is home?” has added meaning, but it is still a universal question. Every immigrant parent asks it, watching their children become American. Everyone who has moved elsewhere for a job, or for love, or just because, wonders the same. I watch my college student stumble over it periodically. When he is on campus, he talks of our house as “home,” but when he is there he is eager to go “home” to his dorm. Home is wherever he isn’t.

Vincent O’Keefe , a stay-at-home dad and regular Motherlode contributor , has been thinking of home a lot lately. I’ll let him use a guest post today to explain. Then you can use the comments to discuss what home means to you, and what memories you carry of the one where you spent your childhood. Have you ever tried to go home again?

BESIDES THE PEOPLE, WHAT MAKES A CHILDHOOD HOUSE A HOME? By Vincent O’Keefe

Recently, I traveled to my hometown to attend my mother’s 80th birthday party. While I was there, I took my children to the house I grew up in — one I hadn’t entered for 25 years. I was unsure whether this was a good idea, since a friend had warned that it can be depressing if your childhood home is in disrepair. Also, my family had to sell the house after my parents divorced when I was in 11th grade, so I feared the experience might be bittersweet.

My first step was figuring out how to ask for a tour without seeming like a lunatic. Luckily, my sister (one of my five older siblings) knew a neighbor still living on the street, who made an introduction to the current owners, a husband and wife with two adult children, and we set up a time for the visit.

Everything on my old street seemed smaller than I remembered: the houses, the driveways and all those lawns I weeded, mowed and raked for a few bucks. About the only things that were larger were the trees, though the one I used to climb in my front yard was gone, which disoriented both my memory and the appearance of the property.

The exterior of the house looked roughly the same: a three-bedroom wooden structure with a brick facade built in 1918. The interior, though, had changed. The kitchen had been updated dramatically, and the house’s woodwork (which I had not appreciated as a kid) was well preserved and warm.

Memories were everywhere: my mother’s awe-inspiring “cookie closet” (also known as a pantry) popular with my friends; the Christmas-present hideaway in my parents’ bedroom, popular with my snooping siblings; and my old bedroom window through which I would climb to sit on a section of flat roof (sorry about that, Mom and Dad).

Like the street, and the whole of the house, most of these spots felt smaller; yet there were a few areas that, surprisingly, seemed to have grown. The dining room, where we ate every night; as a stay-at-home dad I marvel daily at my mother’s ability to feed eight of us at 6  o’clock sharp. The front porch, where we all congregated for thunderstorms; with no Internet and only six TV channels, it was great entertainment to watch the rain and talk about the day. I think I’d condensed these spots in my mind because they were the only places where we had gathered as a large group. As the youngest of six, with divorced parents, I witnessed lots of comings and goings over the years, and I cherished places with the architectural ability to “house” us all, however briefly, in one place.

As I walked from one memory to the next, I thought of E.B. White’s nostalgic gem, “Once More to the Lake,” in which he revisits childhood haunts with his son and muses, “There had been no years . . .” Wandering through the past, I wondered about the future. What would my own children remember most about their current home in 25 years? Sadly, we don’t have a covered front porch. I priced a small portico once, but after recovering from the shock I decided we would just watch our storms through a window. We do have a memorable kitchen table, which I suspect they’ll cherish, since that is where we share the most laughter per square foot.

Of course their most lasting memories will likely be ones I would never predict, and they will surface at the most surprising moments. The bedroom I had shared as a child, for instance, was now pink, and as I walked through I told the owner how angry my father had been about the super-strong glue one of my brothers had used to affix the large cork letters “Y-E-S” on the wall as a tribute to his favorite rock band. That had been all but impossible to remove when we had moved.

As I spoke, the owner looked where I pointed, and there beneath the pink paint was the word “YES” in slightly raised outline. I offered a meek and very belated apology, and we moved on.

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Childhood Memories Essay Examples

Childhood memories essay topics.

Childhood memories are the recollections of experiences, people, and events from our early years. These memories shape our personalities, influence our behaviors, and contribute to our understanding of the world. Exploring childhood memories can evoke nostalgia, highlight important life lessons, and offer insights into one's personal development. Writing about childhood memories allows us to reflect on the past, understand our present, and share meaningful stories that connect us with others.

Childhood Memories Essay Prompt Samples

Before we embark on this journey down memory lane, let's first understand what a childhood memories essay entails. An essay prompt typically serves as your guiding star in crafting your piece. Here are a few samples to give you an idea of what to expect:

• "Write an essay about a significant childhood memory that shaped your character."
• "Describe a vivid childhood experience that left a lasting impact on your life."
• "Reflect on a cherished memory from your early years and discuss its significance."

These prompts serve as the foundation for your essay. They help you identify the core theme and purpose of your narrative.

Brainstorming the Perfect Childhood Memories Essay Topics

It's time to brainstorm and select the most fitting topic for your childhood memories essay. Consider the following points:

• Emotional Impact: Think about memories that evoke strong emotions. These are often the most compelling stories.
• Life Lessons: Reflect on memories that taught you valuable life lessons or shaped your perspective.
• Vividness: Choose memories with vivid details and sensory experiences; they make your essay come alive.
• Uniqueness: Opt for memories that stand out or have a unique twist, avoiding overly common topics.

By considering these points, you can pinpoint a memory that not only resonates with you but also captivates your readers.

Examples of Unique Essay Topics

Now, let's explore some unique and captivating essay topics that revolve around childhood memories. These topics are sure to stand out from the crowd:

• "The Day I Discovered a Hidden Treasure in Grandma's Attic.
• A Magical Encounter with a Friendly Stray Cat: My Childhood Confidant.
• The Great Lemonade Stand Adventure: Lessons in Entrepreneurship.
• An Unexpected Journey: Getting Lost and Finding My Way Home.
• The Night Our Backyard Turned into an Enchanted Forest

These topics offer a fresh perspective on childhood memories, ensuring your essay engages your audience from start to finish.

Crafting Inspiring Paragraphs and Phrases

To bring your childhood memories essay to life, you need to infuse it with captivating paragraphs and phrases. Here are some samples to inspire your writing:

• "As I climbed up the creaky attic stairs, the dust danced in the sunlight streaming through the cracks. There, amidst forgotten relics of the past, I stumbled upon a weathered, leather-bound journal that held secrets from generations long gone."
• "The stray cat, with its fur as soft as memories themselves, became my confidant. We'd spend endless afternoons together, sharing secrets only a child and a feline friend could understand."
• "With a cardboard sign in hand and a heart full of dreams, I set up my first lemonade stand on that scorching summer day. The taste of success was as sweet as the lemonade itself."
• "As twilight descended, the stars emerged in our enchanted backyard. Fireflies danced, and the trees whispered secrets to my young ears, painting a canvas of wonder and magic."

Feel free to use these samples as a starting point for your own narrative. Remember, the key is to paint a vivid and emotional picture with your words.

With these insights, you're well on your way to crafting an outstanding childhood memories essay that will leave a lasting impression. Embrace the nostalgia, choose a unique topic, and let your words transport your readers back to your cherished moments of the past.

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Childhood Memories and Thier Influence on Me

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About My Grandpa in My Childhood Memories

Memories of my childhood home, personal writing: my childhood story, priceless picture: the importance of my mom's picture in my life, the role of memorable memories in our lives, my horrible experience of getting lost in the jungle, a personal narrative about disneyland, the happiest place on earth, the beautiful feeling of exploring different things in life, personal account of my experience as a teen, personal account of leadership in sixth grade and experience as an accident victim, the characterization of the narrator's childhood memories in cherry bomb, a story by maxine clair, an analysis of the pictures representing my convergence and personality, motherhood and childhood in gabriela mistral’s works, interpretation of theodore roethke’s poem my papa’s waltz, an observation of infants and toddlers, my life's journey: childhood memories to career accomplishments, personal story of life as a christian and educational aspiration of being a nurse, personal narrative: childhood memories with my grandparents, which way of thinking is better, dreaming big or being satisfied with small thoughts, childhood memories in annie dillard's 'the chase'.

Childhood memories are the recollections and impressions of events, experiences, people, and emotions from one's early years, typically from infancy through adolescence. These memories can be vivid or vague and often hold significant emotional value. They play a crucial role in shaping an individual's personality, values, and worldview, influencing behaviors and attitudes in later life. Childhood memories can encompass a wide range of experiences, from everyday moments to significant life events, and are often revisited with nostalgia and reflection.

• Most people’s earliest memories typically date back to around age 3 to 4 years, though some can recall events from as early as age 2.
• Childhood memories are often fragmented and less detailed compared to adult memories due to the ongoing development of the brain's hippocampus, which is crucial for memory formation.
• Sights, sounds, smells, and even tastes can trigger vivid childhood memories, bringing past experiences to the forefront of one’s mind.
• People often selectively remember pleasant childhood experiences and may subconsciously block out more traumatic or negative events.
• The ability to recall childhood memories can change with age, with some memories becoming clearer and others fading over time.

Exploring childhood memories is important because they shape our identity, values, and behaviors. Understanding these memories provides insights into personal development and emotional well-being. Reflecting on childhood experiences can foster empathy, enhance self-awareness, and improve mental health. Delving into childhood memories essay topics allows for a deeper connection with others through shared stories and experiences, enriching our understanding of human nature.

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House as Home: Writing the Places That Raised Us

Childhood was rooms and doors, gaping lace in open windows, potted parsley in yellow kitchens, splintered floorboards, buckled carpets, the bug-zapper sound that the basement light made when your father pulled the string, and then that tube of violet light abuzz over his box of tools. Childhood was place as much as it was people, geometry as much as conversation, material as much as mood.

There’s the evidence of it in photographs. There are the neighborhoods to which we return, then circle. And, sometimes, there are the houses themselves—still standing. If we knock, and the door opens, we are rushed with a confusion of past and present. I think of George Hodgman, in his memoir Bettyville , returning to Missouri as the adult child of a mother in need of care and company:

On the spare bed, there is a quilt with stars and crescent moons, figures of girls and boys joining hands along the borders, and the embroidered signatures of long-gone farm women, including my great-aunt Mabel’s. I am installed here, along with the Christmas wrappings, the desk of Betty’s uncle Oscar, and the bed I slept in with my grandmother as a boy, listening to Mammy’s snores and the sound of the furnace settled into service.

Installed in the moment. Awash with history.

We have been shaped by the houses and the land of our past. We remember, through them, what we have gained and what we have lost, what we were offered and what we were denied, what we have decided about transience, permanence, and most things in between. As memoir writers we must ultimately wrestle with our beliefs about home. We need to answer questions: Is home an act of creation? Is home where we know and are known? Is home where we find ease? Is home where we tell the truth or keep our secrets? Is home what we must finally leave?

What, in the end, is home ? And how do we write it?

Simply quantifying the architectural facts of our childhood houses—stone, brick, siding; color of doors and arrangement of windows; tones and hues; furnishings; the arrangement of mail slots or mailboxes; monthly rent or purchase price—will not, alone, advance our plots. We must find within those facts our stories, our metaphors, our truths, our most elemental memories. What follows is a handful of starting places, illustrated by the words of some extraordinary writers.

Proportions

It’s one thing to take a measuring tape to a set of architectural blueprints and announce a series of dimensions. It’s quite another to think and write of a house proportionately. What was small and what was large, and in relationship to what, precisely?

Think of the work Sandra Cisneros does in The House on Mango Street , a house that is, she tells us, “small and red with tight steps in front and windows so small you’d think they were holding their breath.” The language is simple. The effect is enormous. The windows are holding their breath and so are we. We feel the impact of this claustrophobic place on a girl with expansive dreams.

If we were to think of our childhood houses in terms of proportions—how the sizes of things shaped our relationship to them and to ourselves—what would happen to our stories? How might we understand, and write them, better?

Color and Shine

In Jacqueline Woodson’s memoir-in-verse, Brown Girl Dreaming , a family’s existence is gracefully summoned by measures of color and shine. We don’t just see this world of the author’s youth. We understand how a family lives—what has been deemed important (that healthy plant, those polished shoes) and what has not (that neglected swing):

A front porch swing thirsty for oil. A pot of azaleas blooming. A pine tree. Red dirt wafting up around my mother’s newly polished shoes.

Inspired by Woodson, we might make a list of the colors associated with our childhood home—and what those colors suggested. We might name the things that shined, and why it mattered that they did. We might write the story that emerges.

Function or Dysfunction

“The house was by now functional only in one room, the living room,” writes Bruce Springsteen in his memoir, Born to Run . “The rest of the house, abandoned and draped off, was falling down, with one wintry and windblown bathroom, the only place to relieve yourself, and no functioning bath.”

This is no note to would-be repairmen. Nor is it a retrospectively lodged complaint. Springsteen remembers his childhood circumstance with compassion for those who raised him as well as compassion for himself, this boy who navigated a physically broken place with a unifying sense of family.

What happens when we reckon with all the broken things in our childhood houses, then work to remember that one time—those many times?—when what was physically broken was overcome by a gesture or insistent love? How would such story making deepen our own understanding of the self that was shaped by the house, the house that became an actual home?

Many of us look back on our childhood homes with our eyes. Photographs orient us, after all. Those blueprints, if we have them.

But story lives equally within the province of sound—the way the roof whistled when the wind blew, the inherent creak of the fifth stair, the front-door squeal, the hush-swirl of the water draining from the tub. “My aunt’s bedroom was large, industrial, and cold…,” Mary Gordon writes in “My Grandmother’s House.” And then she gives that house a new dimension: “Each footfall, even your own, sounded ominous in your ears.”

That word ominous is signaling a story. A story set into motion by a sound.

What echoed, literally, in our childhood homes? What echoes now, as we write our way back to the children we were, eyes closed in the dark, listening? How might the echoes become metaphors, or meaning?

Our childhood houses offered, at their most basic, shelter. But they also served as round-the-clock stage sets, as a kind of theater in which we were both actor and audience. In All the Lives We Ever Lived: Seeking Solace in Virginia Woolf, Katharine Smyth provides a perfect illustration of what can happen when we establish (with poetics) the physical facts of a home, and then set a story into motion:

We devoted our weekends that winter to supervising the renovation. A beastly wind leapt off the basin, slipping through cracks and ripping at the plastic sheets that now stood in for windows altogether. The house then was a skeleton; from the water, it looked like an architectural cross section. We wore winter coats indoors. I spent my time collecting the sawdust that drifted like snow into the corners of rooms—I liked how light and downy and dry it was—and when, come spring, the house was finally finished, I mixed this sawdust with glue, molded it in the shape of a heart, and baked it in the oven.

This might be our ambition, then: To write the physical places that shaped us with such evocative specificity that those who read our pages will feel not just the wind blowing through but the lives themselves—the gathering, the yearning, the inevitably inadequate but elementally human attempts at shaping and keeping.

Our childhood houses were where we learned proportion and relationship, color and shine, function and dysfunction, echo. Our childhood houses were our theaters in the round. Our privilege, and our challenge, is to write them, to convert the house into a home. ___

Beth Kephart is the award-winning writer of more than thirty books in multiple genres, an award-winning teacher of memoir at the University of Pennsylvania, co-founder of Juncture Workshops, and a widely published essayist. Her memoir in essays, Wife | Daughter | Self was published by Forest Avenue Press in March 2021.

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The Heart-Wrenching Reality of Revisiting Your Childhood Home, Decades Later

I can’t let go of my childhood home. That big, beautiful, brick house in Fremont, OH, has a hold on me much like the first boy I kissed. Even now, as a middle-aged adult living in New York City, I find myself pulled back to Wood Street even though the house was sold long ago.

Twenty-five years ago, in fact. Just as I was moving to New York to start my career, my mother sold the house where I had spent most of my life. I was suddenly faced with the fact that not only was I uprooting, I was simultaneously losing my anchor to my past. And yes, it hurt, more than I like to admit.

Since I returned to Fremont often to visit family, I’d also routinely revisit my childhood home. Much like a stalker who hadn’t fully moved on from an ex, I’d do casual drive-bys and admire my old home from afar. I’d often think about knocking on the door to ask if I could take a peek inside, but felt it wasn’t worth a restraining order.

(Briana Haas-Zak)

These drive-bys continued for 15 years. Then lo and behold, in 2010, I was actually invited inside.

What it’s really like to revisit your childhood home

It turns out, a friend of mine from high school had bought my childhood home. Once he heard I was in town, he invited me to drop in.

To say I was eager to see the place would be an understatement. I imagined walking through each room, accompanied by my husband and daughter, while imparting tales of sliding down the staircase with cousins during holiday parties, or showing the exact spot where we put our tinsel-covered Christmas tree every year.

Unfortunately, my excitement was short-lived, as my friend had failed to mention that he was renovating the place, and had already ripped everything out.

While I hadn’t expected to see the same ’80s furniture and decor, I wasn’t prepared to see my home stripped bare. The staircase, which I’d remembered as so grand, now looked basic and unimpressive.

We made our way to my bedroom, where I used to cover the walls with rainbows and posters of heartthrobs like Rob Lowe , Michael J. Fox , and Barry Gibb . But now, there was no evidence that I’d ever been there at all.

I had one last hope: I headed to the closet. Inside, in a spot where you would have to know to look, I found it: I Love Mike.

This phrase was written by a lovesick teenage me back in 1987. By now, of course, Mike was long gone and forgotten. But seeing those three words filled me with a weird feeling that was both exhilarating and devastating, tinged with loss and hope all at once.

Unless you’ve discovered a treasure like this at some point in your life, I’m not sure I can capture this experience in words. But the closest I can say is that in an instant, this strange, bare, empty house felt like home. My home.

Why people have a hard time letting go of their childhood homes

I’m not alone in this strange, tortured attachment.

For many of my friends—both those who’ve moved away and those who still live in the same town—childhood home drive-bys seem to be a regular routine. Some even stop to surreptitiously snap selfies on the front porch before the new homeowners notice. One woman who lived too far from her childhood home to spy on it in person regularly resorts to Google Earth.

Some work up the courage to knock. And occasionally, they get invited in. Some find it to be an amazing experience. As one acquaintance of mine put it, “It was magical, akin to traveling back in time.”

Others, upon finding that their home is for sale, pounce on the opportunity to attend an open house.

Jennifer Winograd used this tactic to revisit her home in Houston. While it got her in the door, she wasn’t prepared for how difficult it would be to see the changes that had unfolded since she’d left.

“The owners turned my bedroom into an office, and covered our beautiful pool with an awful koi pond,” recalls Winograd. It wasn’t all bad, though. Inside an upstairs closet, she located some sticky remnants on the wall from an accident with her brother’s Stretch Armstrong.

“We could never get all the pieces off the walls,” she says. “And, nearly 40 years later, it couldn’t have made me happier.”

So why do so many people stalk their childhood homes?

“Visiting your childhood home is about reconnecting with the innocence and the positiveness of a childhood gone by,” says psychotherapist Mark Jeremy Trybulski .

Trybulski even admits to doing it himself. “As we grow older, the memories of childhood fade and the home acts as an anchor in reestablishing one’s identity,” he explains.

Yet changes and renovations to the home by new owners can be jarring. One friend told me they were angry about a sports team banner hung on their old house; another wasn’t happy with the choice of “Smurf blue” paint.

How to revisit your childhood home without getting arrested

Since so many people long to revisit their childhood homes, I’m sharing best practices for getting inside when a drive-by isn’t enough:

• Just knock. Know that you’re not guaranteed entry; don’t take it personally.
• Ask for a tour. Ideally without the current homeowner! In my case, since a high school friend had bought my home, I was able to walk unattended with my family so I could be open and honest about how I was feeling.
• Be prepared for changes.  Had I known what I was walking into, I might have braced myself. Even the smallest changes, though understandable, can really throw you for a loop.

Maybe Thomas Wolfe was right when he wrote, “You can’t go home again.”

I know I will never again experience my dog playing in that front yard, or my brother trying to put out his latest fire, or me and my best friend sitting on the roof outside my bedroom smoking cigarettes. But that doesn’t mean those memories are gone. They’re with me. They’re also in my house on Wood Street, like ghosts that only I can see when I drive by.

Briana Haas-Zak is a freelance writer, PR consultant, and producer and host of the inspirational podcast, Jobs Blow with Briana and Josh.

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Writing about Childhood Homes-4 Easy Ways to Start

by Laura Hedgecock | Jun 5, 2013 | Family History , How-to , Writing Advice , Writing and Sharing Memories , Writing Prompts | 2 comments

Four easy ways to start writing about childhood homes,

Originally posted April 17, 2013; updated June 5, 2013

Traveling Down Memory Lane:

More than one childhood home?

In my family, we tended to live in one house for decades. As a result, many of my memories revolve around the same physical building and surrounding neighborhood.

Your “childhood home” might be your grandparents’ or aunt’s home, your school, or your community center. You may also have bits and pieces of different homes that stand out in your recollections.

My childhood home

Regardless, the fact is, the place or places you lived were a part of your growing up and were the setting in which the ‘forming’ of your formative year took place.

For most of us, “home” was the place we felt safe, loved, and free to form. Even if your growing up place(s) cannot be painted as idyllic (and I’m not advocating revising your past), your memories of them will interest the generations coming after you and will deepen the connections you have with family members that share your memories of these places.

Your childhood homes

Every story is better with a well-described setting. By writing about childhood homes, you can leave your readers with some impressions of your the place or places in which you grew up.  This can be especially meaningful if it is no longer in the family or is far away.

Don’t limit yourself to the physical characteristics of your home, but also include:

What were you likely to hear? Was it a noisy home, filled with people and activity or was it the place you went to find peace? Who caused the noise: people, nature, or machinery?

What were you likely to smell? Thinking back on these odors can bring back a flood of memories. (See Smells and Memory: How it works )  Kitchen smells come easily to mind, but there could be perfumes, cleaners, tobacco and (eww) personal smells.

Personality:

What did this home “feel” like?  Was it pristine, cozy, homemade, cobbled-together or professionally decorated? Was furniture worn and comfy or covered in plastic? Did it have a loving feel or were there overtones of anger there?

What were the daily rhythms of the household? Would a visitor most likely find someone in the kitchen, on the phone, or in the garden? Did activity break out at a specific time?

Want to see a great example? Watch singer-songwriter Stephanie Jansen sing to her dad about the home he built .  (You don’t have to be able to sing your memories, listen to her words!)

Take your readers for a walk down Memory Lane, up your front walk, and into your childhood home.

© Laura Hedgecock 2013

Great article! I’ve been trying to find the best way to document the homes I grew up in and have found it to be a real struggle. My family moved around a lot (and I do mean A LOT) when I was younger, and there are no pictures of most of the homes where I lived. I’m working on finding a good quality map that I can “pin” with the locations of all the houses we lived in for a layout in my scrapbook. Then, on following pages, I think I’ll mostly journal about some of the memories I had living in each house. It’s going to be a challenge.

Sounds like a wonderful project. I recently heard of a new site that lets you find maps from different time periods. When I find it, I’ll send you a link.

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The Joy of Staying Put

I ’ve looked forward to celebrating the centennial of my house since the day I bought it. Our local public library provides plaques that read “Bexley Century Home” to all homes that turn 100, and to say I’m excited to claim mine next year would be an understatement. It’s just a small blue front-yard marker, but it feels like a badge of honor.

Nearly 15 years ago, I was charmed by this American Foursquare-style house—tall and boxy with cedar shingles, plenty of large windows, and an old coal chute on one side. I still love the French doors, the built-ins, and the creaky original wood floors, all hallmarks of the era. You can tell by walking around my neighborhood that almost half of the houses date to the 1920s and ’30s. Bexley, Ohio, was incorporated as a village in 1908, then became a city in 1932, once it had more than the 5,000 residents required. Today, there are roughly 14,000 people living here, in roughly 5,000 homes—more and more of them with “Bexley Century Home” plaques.

In 2010, I moved into this house with my husband and one-year-old daughter, who had just taken her first steps a few weeks earlier. Now that toddler is a sophomore in high school, she has a younger brother who’s starting middle school, and their father lives in another state. When my marriage ended, I fought hard to stay in this old house, despite its upkeep, and despite its ghosts. I wanted to keep my children in our neighborhood, in their school district, within walking distance of their friends, and only a short drive from their grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. This house—this community—is the only home they’ve ever known.

Read More: The Gift I Gave Myself After My Divorce

I know that my ability to make that commitment to my children is a privilege. To choose where I live and to put down roots is a privilege. For many, staying put isn’t an option. People leave home for all kinds of reasons. They can’t afford to stay, because of divorce, or the death of a family member, or gentrification. They might move to seek work, or better opportunities, or more freedom. Or they leave to escape violence, persecution, or human rights violations.

Starting over isn’t always an empowered choice or an exciting adventure, but a desperate and painful necessity. I know more than one family who has had to move so that their trans children would have access to comprehensive health care. I know families that are encouraging their teenage daughters to consider colleges and universities only in states where they will have access to abortion. Increasingly, here in the United States, laws have made some states particularly unsafe for women and LGBTQ+ people.

Whatever the circumstances, and whether you are someone who stayed or someone who left, I think everyone has a love-hate, push-pull relationship with home. I chose to stay put. I live about 20 minutes from my childhood home in a neighboring suburb, where my parents still live. Each Sunday we all gather there for family dinner—my parents and sisters, their spouses, and our children; 13 of us, ages 6 to 76. When I tell people about Sunday dinner, they have one of two reactions. One is “Oh, that’s so special! I wish I had that kind of closeness with my family.” The other is something along the lines of, “Oh, hell no.”

Read More: I Got Divorced. But My Family Is Still Whole

I understand both reactions.

On one hand, it might feel stifling to remain in the place where you were raised. There’s so much to experience elsewhere—other places, people, cultures, and ways of life. A leap can be powerful and transformative, and sometimes what we need is a fresh start. Perhaps it’s easy to stagnate if you stay in one place too long, to end up in a rut, while moving makes reinvention easier.

On the other hand, there’s beauty and power in growing where you’re planted and building relationships over decades. I’ve written at length about this in my memoir —what it means to feel held in a place and by a community, particularly in difficult times. More than a house, a neighborhood, or a state, people are home. I can’t imagine weathering years of divorce and custody litigation, or raising two children on my own, far from my people.

My century home is haunted, not only by the ghosts of my former life, but by all of the families who lived here before me. Other hands have washed dishes—and babies—in this kitchen sink, turned the knob to open the front door and called out their beloveds’ names as they announced their return: “I’m home!” Other parents and children have slept and dreamed in these bedrooms; other arguments have happened here, and other repairs.

It’s a gift to be a steward of this history, these memories. This house has been ours for only about 10% of its lifetime. We’re just a chapter in its story. Searching public records, I can see who lived in the house before us, and I wonder about their lives here.

Last year, I received an email, subject line: house. The woman wrote that she was about 25% through my memoir when she had a strange feeling about the house I’d described. After a quick Google search, she realized she was right: It had been her house. She sold it to us.

As my house nears its 100th birthday, I’m reminded of how fortunate I am to be steeped in history—my own, and the other families who have lived here. But most of all, I’m fortunate to have had a choice to stay or, if I’d wanted a different life for my family, to go. I don’t take that for granted. I’m planning to throw the house a 1920s-themed birthday party: fairy lights in the backyard; Prohibition-era cocktails; a jazz playlist of “Sweet Georgia Brown,” “Yes Sir! That’s My Baby,” and other popular songs from that year.

At the party, I imagine there will be a backyard full of friends and neighbors—the people who make this neighborhood and dwelling home. There will be drinks and music and laughter. And before my children and I blow out the candles on the birthday cake, we’ll all sing together.

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Childhood Essay for Students and Children

500+ words essay on childhood.

Childhood is the most fun and memorable time in anyone’s life. It’s the first stage of life which we enjoy in whatever way we like. Besides, this is the time that shapes up the future. The parents love and care for their children and the children to the same too. Moreover, it’s the golden period of life in which we can teach children everything.

Memories of Childhood

The memories of childhood ultimately become the life long memory which always brings a smile on our faces. Only the grownups know the real value of childhood because the children do not understand these things.

Moreover, Children’s have no worries, no stress, and they are free from the filth of worldly life. Also, when an individual collects memories of his/her childhood they give a delighted feeling.

Besides, bad memories haunt the person his entire life. Apart from this, as we grow we feel more attachment to our childhood and we want to get back those days but we can’t. That’s why many people say ‘time is neither a friend nor a foe’. Because the time which is gone can’t come back and neither do our childhood. It is a time which many poets and writer praises in their creations.

Importance of Childhood

For children, it has no importance but if you ask an adult it is very important. Moreover, it a time when the moral and social character of the children develop. In this stage of life, we can easily remodel the mindset of someone.

Also, it is very important to understand that the mindset of children can be easily altered in this time. So, we have to keep a close eye on our children.

Get the huge list of more than 500 Essay Topics and Ideas

What Should You Do in Childhood?

In childhood, one should need to enjoy his/her life without any worry. It is a time in which one should have to take care of his diet, his health, and immunity. Besides, the children should be taught to be neat and clean, to eat, read, sleep, play, and to do exercise regularly and these things should be in the habits of the child.

Moreover, we should try to influence children to start productive habits such as reading, writing that should help them in later life. But the books they read and what they write should be carefully checked by the parents.

Care for Everyone

Children are like buds, they care for everyone equally without any discrimination. Also, they are of helpful nature and help everyone around them.

Moreover, they teach everyone the lesson of humanity that they have forgotten in this hectic lifestyle of this world. Besides, these children are the future of the country and if they do not grow properly then in future how can they help in the growth of the nation .

In conclusion, we can say that childhood is the time that makes our adulthood special. Also, children’s are like pottery vessels whom you can shape in any way you like. Besides, this their innocence and helpful nature gives everyone the message of humanity.

Most importantly, they learn by either making mistakes or seeing their elders.

FAQs about Childhood

Q.1 Why childhood is the best period of life? A.1 It is the best time of life because the memories that we make in our childhood always brings a smile on our face. Also, it is the time when the character of the child is shaped. Besides, it also is the best time to understand life and gain knowledge.

Q.2 What is the most important characteristics of a child? A.2 According to me, the most important characteristics of a child is his innocence and helpful nature.

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Why It’s So Damn Difficult to Say Goodbye to Your Childhood Home

For those of us who were fortunate enough to live in one, maybe two, houses during our childhoods and adolescences, we may well have subconsciously made these beloved abodes parts of ourselves. Whether it’s baking cookies with Mom in the kitchen , playing spin the bottle in the basement, or doing summertime cartwheels in the backyard that we reflect on so fondly, these memories carry with them a sense of comfort and security. So when our parents decide to uproot themselves after we’ve grown, it might feel like they’re packing up our precious memories along with the rest of their stuff. And this is normal. Even for adults who have been living on their own for years, this upheaval can be hard. Ross Grossman , a Los Angeles-based family therapist, explains why.

As adults, chances are, we’ve “left” our childhood homes on more than one occasion. Perhaps it was for a sleepover, or then maybe summer camp. “(Those were) both anxiety-producing and highly exciting,” Grossman says. “‘Look, Ma, no hands!’ That feeling of independence is invigorating. But we always know that Mom and Dad are waiting back at the home front should we need to refuel.”

Next, we likely left for a more extended period of time: College. “[During college], we are leaving the staid, stable, consistent reality of home and going out to seek knowledge and adventure,” Grossman explains, “but with the ever-present thought that home is always back there, waiting.”

However, when home is no longer “back there” because our parents have separated or moved, we lose the refuge that we were so able to rely on. “Home,” at least as far as we’d come to recognize it, no longer exists. “Once our childhood home is removed in a very real way, our sense of permanence — which is to say a false sense of permanence — is altered,” Grossman states. “It can feel very much like the ground shifting beneath our feet to be unable to enter our childhood home, smell the familiar smells, walk the familiar halls, sleep in a familiar room.”

And we are not only coping with the loss of a childhood constant but also — maybe for the first time — being forced to confront impermanence, according to Grossman. “Saying goodbye forever to a childhood home points out the innate sweet sadness of the transitory nature of life,” he says. “Feeling somewhat sad and wistful is a natural reaction to this loss. Western culture does not integrate the concept of death very well into our daily lives,” Grossman continues. “Yet losing our childhood home is a kind of ‘small death’ and a preview of other deaths to come.”

The most powerful antidote to this type of sadness is gratitude. As Grossman points out, thousands of people are forced from their homes each year due to natural disaster, war, or other circumstances, and we were lucky enough to remain contentedly planted in one safe and comforting home for the most formative years of our lives.

“Home is indeed where the heart is, so take a moment and collect your thoughts about home, that is, the value of what home represents,” Grossman says. “Home can mean many things to many different people: a place to feel safe, a place to relax, a place to gather together, a place to communicate freely.” And once your family moves into their new home, take these values with you there so the new place will feel like home too.

How’d you handle this loss of home? Let us know @BritandCo .

{Photo via Getty)

• How To Heal From Childhood Trauma - Brit + Co ›
• Expert Advice On How To Heal Your Inner Child - Brit + Co ›
• What Getting Rid Of Childhood Stuff Taught Me About Life - Brit + Co ›

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Essays About Childhood Memories: Top 5 Examples

Our childhood memories are often some of the most cherished experiences of our lives, so if you are writing essays about childhood memories, you can start by reading our essay examples and writing prompts.  

Childhood is the period in our lives when we learn about our feelings, social skills, and the world around us. When we think of our childhood, we remember the years when we learn the most basic life skills, from being able to talk to the difference between “good” and “bad.”

Many fondly look back on their childhood memories, recalling when life was much more straightforward. They remember their parents, grandparents, favorite foods, friends, and essential experiences, among many other things. It is easy to imagine the idyllic, innocent life most of us had before, especially in our challenging times. 

If you want to write essays about your childhood memories, go over the essay examples, and writing prompts featured below. 

1. Happy childhood memories – and an old mix-tape by Séamas O’Reilly

2. favorite childhood memory by david dziegielewski, 3. a reflection of my childhood by shivani bajaj.

• 4.  I Would Have Liked Childhood More Without the Pressure to Grow Up by Jane Coaston

5. Lessons from my mother: A reflection on motherhood by GraceAnna Castleberry

1. your favourite childhood memory, 2. the importance of positive memories from childhood, 3. memories of your childhood home, 4. important figures from childhood, 5. the value of childhood memories, 6. childhood vs. adulthood, 7. childhood food memories.

“For the last few years I lived here, I was the same height as I am now, so why am I astonished at the low hang of countertops, or that I can catch my reflection in the mirror that hangs high on the wall? Sometimes peering at that tired, but devilishly handsome, man in the mirror evokes the same, bittersweet feeling of vertigo you get from visiting your old primary school, as you stand 3ft higher than you’re supposed to, like some befuddled Lemuel Gulliver.”

In his essay, O’Reilly reflects on his time visiting his father in his childhood house. He recalls his memories inside the house alongside his son’s experiences today and how they are similar. He also explains how pleasant it is to be in the house again, as it evokes warm, cozy memories of his upbringing. While much has changed about the house, every visit remains as nostalgic as ever.

You might also find these essays about camping trips helpful.  

“I always smile when I remember fishing with my Father. Many years have now since passed since those Saturday morning fishing trips. Time has taught me that the bond between Father and Son is what made those memories special to me. Now when I close my eyes I can remember those days since passed with joy and with a remembrance of the love I have for my Father.”

In this short essay, Dziegielewski describes memories of fishing with his father. He recalls every detail, from the fresh smell of the lake to the sound of a fishing bobber. Most importantly, however, he remembers how his father taught him the skill of fishing. This made him love his father, even more, allowing him to look back on these memories fondly.  You can also check out these essays about development .

“Water also drives many of our decisions — from the seafood we eat to our most romantic moments, and from where we live, to the sports we enjoy, and the ways we vacation and relax. We know instinctively that being by water makes us healthier, happier, reduces stress, and brings us peace.”

Bajaj recalls a memorable experience in which she dove into a deep pool after her mother had told her not to. She remembers the feelings of curiosity and excitement she felt and how despite her nearly drowning, she remembers that time happily. Reflecting on the memory, she also explains how water has helped her become more satisfied, peaceful, and happy. Our childhood memories shape us and provide us with the basis for the rest of our lives.

4.   I Would Have Liked Childhood More Without the Pressure to Grow Up by Jane Coaston

“I felt like I was given no time for trial and error. My choices were either to make the very selective local club soccer team or never play the sport again, be a genius or give up. Because being bad at anything was the worst possible sin I could imagine committing.”

Coaston writes about a more negative aspect of her childhood: the constant pressure to “not be a kid anymore.” She recalls several things expected of her, including having exceptional grades while being athletically gifted at the same time, with “no time for trial and error.” She feels everything was expected of her, and she did not have time to discover herself by making mistakes. She wishes parents would not rush their children along and let kids be kids for a while.  Check out these essays about growing up .

“I remember calling home once when I was spending the night at a friend’s house. I was homesick and just wanted to come back home. It was near midnight, but my mom drove over and picked me up. It was in these little moments that I especially felt loved. These were moments when I really needed my mom, and she was there for me. As a mother of a one-year-old now, I treasure these moments too.”

In her essay, Castleberry recalls her childhood memories involving her mother, including ones in which her mother entertained her and her friends and picked her up from a late night at a friend’s house. She remembers the small things her mother would do for her and how she was always there when she needed her. In raising her daughter, Castleberry strives to be the same mother that her mother was for her. 

7 Writing Prompts On Essays About Childhood Memories

Think back to one beloved childhood memory and retell the story in your essay. Then, describe all of the details you can recall, such as; who was involved, where the memory took place, what events transpired, and why it is such an important memory. Next, provide context by explaining the circumstances behind the memory, and most important of all, be sure to explain how this memory made you feel. Finally, use descriptive language to convey why this memory is your favorite.

Whether good or bad, people say childhood memories are crucial to who you are today. Why is this the case? In your essay, write about the value of keeping your childhood memories close. Then, write about any lessons you learned from them, and include a mix of supporting details from research and your opinions. 

Describe the home you lived in as a child- the layout, the neighborhood, the living conditions, and whatever else you can think of. Did you like it? Write about how it compares to your current home, and if you still live in the same place today, describe how it has changed from before and how it is similar. 

You can also write about a childhood figure who impacted you, such as one of your parents, grandparents, uncles, or aunts. Explain why you remember this person so well and the impact they have had on your life. For inspiration, you can look through an old photo album with photos of that person. 

Recall your childhood and think about this: overall, is it a childhood others would enjoy? Did you have a “good” childhood, or If there is anything, you can also include things you would change about your childhood you could. In this essay, delve into the value of your childhood memories and write about any that impacted your life for the better.

Compare yourself now to how you were back then. In most cases, much has changed; however, what similarities do you see between you now and in your childhood memories? If you wish to be more like “childhood you” in some ways, explain these as well. 

For a fun essay, write about your favorite food growing up. Include a brief description of how to prepare it and perhaps some of its history. What significance does this food have to you? You can also write about any memories you associate the dish with, as these might explain why you enjoyed that food so much. 

Grammarly is one of our top grammar checkers. Find out why in this Grammarly review .

If you are interested in learning more, check out our essay writing tips !

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Saying goodbye to my childhood home wasn't easy

There’s something beautiful about a lived-in house.

For a few years now, my mother, my older sister and I have been urging my father to sell our childhood home. He was the only one living there, as my parents, while still married, separated many years ago for various reasons. After 35 years, the house had become increasingly worn down and harder for my 73-year-old dad to take care of.

My relationship with that house was a complicated one, like many of the relationships in our lives.

It was the house where I made tiny villages for make-believe elves and fairies, out of sticks and leaves and other things I found on the ground, built at the base of giant trees that stood tall in our backyard.

It was the house where, one summer, my sister became obsessed with mural painting, so she took her amateur artistic skills to her own walls and painted murals of Winnie-the-Pooh and Dr. Seuss characters. She never was a painter, but honestly, her murals were pretty good.

It was the house where my father, a chef and wine connoisseur, decoupaged wine labels onto a kitchen door, a unique feature that I loved to show off to guests.

It was the house where my mother had thrown all of my belongings on the yard a few times, teaching me the invaluable lesson that if I didn't clean my room, she would clean it for me.

It was the house where my family, after dinner parties or other gatherings, would roll up the carpet in our living room and dance to Gloria Gaynor, Diana Ross and Donna Summer.

It was the house where I sneaked out a hook-up when my parents came home early, only to later have my dad ask me: “Who was that young man leaving earlier today?”

It was the house that saw so many arguments and fights between my family, some so painful they feel like they just happened yesterday.

It was the house that my dad finally sold this fall.

I hadn’t been back in some time, but something compelled me to return home. I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing my old house one last time. So while visiting the area for Thanksgiving, I made sure to stop by 103 East Rose Valley Road for a proper goodbye.

The hydrangea bushes in the front yard that once boasted beautiful bright pink flowers were now barren. A sign in front boasted a yard sale, my dad trying to get as much cash as he could for whatever he could sell. No, dad, I don’t think anyone wants a TV with a VCR.

I went to my bedroom to go through shelves of dusty stuffed animals. Beanies Babies that once were literally my only friends were still there where I had left them. My door was adorned with paintings and posters of some of my favorite things. The “Gilmore Girls” were there, as well as a magazine editorial of “Chicago,” the movie featuring Renee Zellweger and Catherine Zeta-Jones.

Going through my childhood belongings, I started to look at my room a little differently. I remembered being obsessed with summer storms as they rolled by, watching them from my bedside window and loving the thunder and lighting. I found the encyclopedia I created all about ancient Egypt, another passion of mine. That little boy was lonely, but he managed to find some pretty amazing things to replace the loneliness with.

As the day passed, I mourned the good days that this house had seen. But I also remembered the more painful ones that happened there. Going back and saying goodbye was a reminder that I made it out OK, and possibly better because of it all.

It was a reminder I needed now more than ever.

These days, it seems like we all desire an Instagrammable, picture-perfect life. Families in matching pajamas at Christmas. Buff and beautiful bodies leaving the gym. I admit I've fallen for this, and my own desire to have a "shareable" life has sometimes prevented me from experiencing actual life.

Parents As a rainbow baby, I never really asked my mom about her miscarriage. Until now

The house I left behind wasn’t really Instagrammable. It was worn and a little dirty. The Winnie-the-Pooh murals had faded and the wine labels on the door were tearing. But there was something painfully beautiful about it. I'm glad I had the chance to go back before this “fixer upper” will ultimately be gutted to make way for an open concept kitchen and shiplap walls.

I’m sure the next inhabitants will be a young couple drawn to the neighborhood for the amazing school district. Hopefully they aren’t too keen on keeping that shiplap pristine white. Hopefully they let their daughter test her artistic skills on the walls, and let their son dig holes in the yard for elves and fairies.

Hopefully, an obsession with perfection doesn't prevent the new family in this house from living a real, messy life.

Because there’s something really beautiful about a lived-in house.

Alexander Kacala is a reporter and editor at TODAY Digital and NBC OUT. He loves writing about pop culture, trending topics, LGBTQ issues, style and all things drag. His favorite celebrity profiles include Cher — who said their interview was one of the most interesting of her career — as well as Kylie Minogue, Candice Bergen, Patti Smith and RuPaul. He is based in New York City and his favorite film is “Pretty Woman.”

Essay on My Childhood

Students are often asked to write an essay on My Childhood in their schools and colleges. And if you’re also looking for the same, we have created 100-word, 250-word, and 500-word essays on the topic.

Let’s take a look…

100 Words Essay on My Childhood

Introduction.

My childhood was a beautiful period of my life. It was full of joy, love, and innocence. The memories are still fresh and bring a smile to my face.

I lived in a small town with my family. Our house was surrounded by trees and flowers. It was like living in nature’s lap.

My family was my world. My parents always encouraged me to explore and learn. My siblings were my partners in every adventure.

My childhood was indeed a golden period. It shaped me into the person I am today.

250 Words Essay on My Childhood

Childhood, the most innocent phase of man’s life. With the passage of time, it fades into adolescence and adulthood, yet the sweet memories of childhood linger on. My childhood recollections are those of a sheltered and carefree life, nurtured with love and concern.

My Childhood Home

The house where I grew up was old and quaint. It was nestled in the heart of nature, surrounded by verdant trees and chirping birds. The morning sun that peeked through the dew-kissed leaves was enough to fill our hearts with joy.

Family and Friends

My family was small, loving, and caring. My parents were always there to encourage and guide us. Being the eldest, I felt the weight of responsibility. My younger siblings were my best companions in my childhood exploits. Our shared laughter and tears still echo in my mind.

Childhood Games

We spent most of our time playing in the open fields, climbing trees, or swimming in the river. The games of childhood, like hide and seek, cricket, and tag, were not just games but lessons that instilled teamwork, honesty, and resilience in us.

Education and Learning

School was another important aspect of our childhood. The teachers were strict yet loving, and the lessons learned from them went far beyond the textbooks. They taught us respect, discipline, and the value of hard work.

500 Words Essay on My Childhood

Childhood, often considered the golden period of life, is a phase that lays the foundation of a person’s future. It is a time of innocence, play, learning, and growth. My childhood, too, was a vibrant blend of these elements, shaping me into the individual I am today.

My Early Years

I was born and raised in a small town, a place where everyone knew everyone. The community was close-knit, and the feeling of togetherness was palpable. My parents, both teachers, instilled in me the love for learning from an early age. They encouraged curiosity, fostering an environment where questions were welcomed and exploration was celebrated.

The Power of Play

Academic foundation.

My academic journey began at the local elementary school, where I was introduced to the world of letters and numbers. My parents, being educators, emphasized the importance of a strong academic foundation. They taught me to value knowledge and to strive for excellence. This early focus on academics instilled in me a lifelong love for learning and a thirst for knowledge that continues to drive me today.

Life Lessons

However, my childhood was not just about play and academics. It was also a time when I learnt some of life’s most significant lessons. I learnt about empathy when I saw my parents helping those in need. I learnt about responsibility when I was given small tasks at home. I learnt about the value of hard work when I saw my parents juggling multiple roles. These lessons have had a profound impact on my character and worldview.

Impact on My Future

As I reflect on my childhood, I realize the immense influence it has had on my life. It was a time of growth, learning, and exploration that has shaped my personality, values, and aspirations. It was a period that laid the foundation for my future, and for that, I will always be grateful. In the end, my childhood was not just a period of my life; it was the beginning of my journey of becoming who I am today.

If you’re looking for more, here are essays on other interesting topics:

Apart from these, you can look at all the essays by clicking here .

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Current Events Conversation

What Students Are Saying About Their Childhood Homes, Endless Messages and a Portal

This week we round up student responses on three Picture Prompts.

By The Learning Network

For this week’s roundup, we are featuring three of our popular Picture Prompts from recent weeks. These prompts invite students to look at an image from The New York Times and then write something — a memory, a short story, an argument or an analysis — inspired by it.

Below are the responses teenagers came up with when we asked them to share their memories of their childhood homes ; to interpret the meaning of an image of floating message bubbles ; and to write creative short stories based on an illustration of a magical shed .

Thank you to all those who posted this week, including students from Hoggard High School in Wilmington, N.C. ; Miami Country Day School in Miami ; and Union High School in Vancouver .

Teenagers anywhere in the world can join our Current Events Conversation any time they like by responding to our daily writing prompts . We publish a selection of comments each week.

Please note: Student comments have been lightly edited for length, but otherwise appear as they were originally submitted.

What are your memories of your childhood home?

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I grew up in a cluttered house. Now, I feel satisfaction from donating things I don't use.

• My childhood home was cluttered, and my parents never threw anything away.
• They were raised not to waste anything, so I understand.
• However, it informed my relationship with clutter, and cleaning now gives me satisfaction.

During my childhood, unexpected guests always caused a panic in our house. The moment we saw a car pull up — or, God forbid, heard a knock at the door — my family would hurriedly scramble to straighten up the living room in an attempt to mask the disorder that permeated our home.

In a house with two small kids, clutter was a given. But the mess in my family's home went beyond the usual toys on the floor or an overflowing hamper in the bathroom. Our house wasn't dirty, but it was full of things we didn't need — clothes that no longer fit , threadbare towels, unused kitchen utensils, toys we'd outgrown.

There was a reason behind the clutter in my childhood home

In most homes, I imagine these things would've been thrown away or perhaps bagged up and donated . But not in our house. They filled cabinets, spilled from overstuffed drawers, and accumulated on surfaces, such as the dining room table or the kitchen counter.

But my parents weren't hoarders, exactly. They were simply among a generation of Americans raised by parents who survived the Great Depression. On my father's side, in particular, the origin of his tendency to hold on to clutter remains particularly easy to trace.

My paternal grandmother raised nine kids during the lean years of the Depression and World War II, when my grandfather was shipped off to the Pacific Theater. Like so many other Americans, my grandmother learned to get by on very little during those years, stretching food, fabric, and funds to ensure her children remained clothed and fed.

While that trauma bred a sense of resilience and thriftiness in her, it also instilled the idea that everything should be saved, lest you find yourself in need of said item and unable to make or buy it. The idea of throwing or giving away things you no longer needed felt wasteful and foolish, so she just kept everything.

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And so did most of her kids, including my dad. Even today, getting him to toss broken or unused items takes an act of Congress. His retorts of "I might need it sometime" or "It can be fixed" echo my grandmother's poverty-formed interpretation of "Waste not, want not."

My upbringing informed how I see clutter as an adult

Growing up in a house like this colored how I see clutter and cleaning . I'm not a minimalist, but I do derive a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment from purging unused, broken, or unneeded items from my home.

Lugging bags and boxes of stuff from my house to the trash or donation center gives me a bit of a thrill. Seeing a once-crowded space become neat and orderly brings a sense of control I lacked as a child growing up in a messy house.

Don't get me wrong — my house can be just as messy as anyone's. I'm human, and also the parent of a 9-year-old — clutter happens. But rather than letting it continue to accumulate, rationalizing reasons to hang onto jeans I'll never fit back into, or the cords that don't seem to belong to any device, I've learned to let go.

Fighting the urge to hang onto things as my parents and grandparents did can be tough sometimes, but the joy I feel when I let go far outweighs the benefits of hanging onto items I don't need.

And making space for things that matter by getting rid of those that don't does more than keep my counters clean — it also reminds me that just as I periodically purge and declutter my home, I should do the same with other things in my life that no longer serve me.

Watch: 4 ways of recycling waste into everyday items

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