The Book of Me Written By You~Prompt 20~The Feeling of Home

I am participating in Julie Goucher's activity:

This week’s prompt ~ Prompt 20 ~ The Feeling of Home

Home means different things to different people, so this week we are going to explore what it means to us

What does it feel like?

How do you recognise it?

What makes it home - people, place, time

I believe the saying is true, "Home is where the heart is."

I have memories of each house I lived in as I was growing up. There was the duplex in Oakland, California and two houses also in Oakland that I remember. These places covered the time in my life from kindergarten through second grade.

From third grade on we lived in two homes, both in San Lorenzo, California. The first home I lived in from third grade until sixth grade. (I posted a photo of that home here.) The next home we lived in was where we lived through out the rest of my school years. (There is a photo of this home from a previous post here.) My first five year's, and five homes. (I was told I lived in another place, but I was to young to remember it myself)

Each of these places felt like home to me. They were where my parents lived and of course where I wanted and needed to be. It was where I was loved and fed. It was where I played and got in trouble. It was were I went when school was over for the day. Home sweet home.

Comforting, solid, cozy, familiar, warm, and peaceful. Each of these homes truly felt like home at each stage in my life. When I moved out from my parent's house, I lived in a few different apartments, and eventually a couple of friend's homes for a short time. 

My first apartment gave me independence, no parents to answer to. My roommates (2 of them) and I could decorate and come and go as we wished. Our first home away from home.

A year or so later one of the roommates left, and then there were two. We moved into a bit smaller apartment in the same complex. The third apartment (also in the same complex), I moved into with a boyfriend and his room mate. The boyfriend and I soon moved to another apartment, in a different city. Eventually, we rented a house (I shared this home here.) When the relationship fell apart I moved in with a friend, and then another friend who was married with two children. I met my future husband through this family that I lived with.

  Now I was married and living in a "new to me home" in the same city as the apartments I lived in were located. My (ex) husband was buying the house when we were married. We lived there, almost a year I think, until a car from the freeway behind us came crashing through our backyard fence. It just missed landing in our swimming pool, thankfully. It happened just before midnight one evening when my (ex) husband was getting ready to go to work. The teenage boy in the car was out there screaming, so I am sure he was hurt...

Needless to say, my ex went to work worried that this could happen again, and we ended up moving. We lived with his parent's for a few months until we found our own home in a "new city" in California. It was a brand new home being built, and it became "our home" very quickly. We landscaped the front and put a pool in the backyard. Our daughter was born while living here. We had a dog and my sister and brother in- laws both lived close by us, just a block away. 

As I said, my "ex," so yes, we divorced. I moved to another city with my daughter and remarried. Only two houses later is where I have settled for more than 25 years After my sisters moved out of our childhood home, our parents moved also. So, our last home with our parents disappeared rather quickly. The houses they owned after this was "their home."

I have listed over a dozen places where I have lived. Of those, the ones I felt were "truly home" would be four of the homes I lived in with my parents, the home my "ex" and I purchased and my current home with my best friend/hubby.

There is a story of my "first home" shared with me by my dad. It goes something like this~

 My mother and father were looking for a place to live (I was about three years old at the time) we stopped at one specific house. Dad said when we walked into the house I took my coat off and threw it on the floor as I walked through the front room. He said I let them know I was “home.” He did everything he could and succeeded in getting us that home.

Thanks for stopping by! 

Wishing you success in all of your genealogical treasure hunts! 

Copyright © 2014 Cheryl Palmer All Rights Reserved


  1. Your final story reminds me of the last scene in "Miracle on 34th Street" where the little girl finds just the house santa promised her.

  2. Awe, that is so sweet Kristen! Thank you, I never would shave put those two together on my own. ;-)


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