Have you noticed remembering with extreme clarity every inch and corner of your childhood home?

Well, certainly not every inch, but I do remember more details about each of my childhood homes than about most of the houses and aparments I’ve lived in since.

I’ve moved 11 times so far (I’m only 24) I can still draw a blue print of every house I’ve lived in, even the one I moved out of when I was 3. For some reason I’ve always been able to remember my old houses really well.

No, I lived in different houses every few years (military brat) so things always changed. I remember little vignettes or snapshots.

I can remember everything about the house I grew up in. I can remember almost everything about the house my parents moved to after I had grown up and moved on. There are even bits I can remember about the house we lived in until I was 5. So, @ZEPHYRA, you might be weird about something, but not this. :-)

No, I barely remember anything.

I’m sure it depends how long one lived there. We moved in when I was 5 months old, and my mother still lives there almost 5 decades later. I moved back in after my divorce and moved back out just three years ago… so, yeah, I remember every inch.

I’m guessing that the homes we live in during early childhood we remember so well because our brains learned to organize sensory information primarily in that environment. We were put down on our backs as infants, learned to roll over, crawl and walk on those floors. We viewed these structures from a very low perspective. For example, I remember what the underside of the dining table and coffee tables look like. I don’t spend much time under tables nowadays.

Last year, I drove my mother home from same-day surgery, and I hadn’t been to the house in a while. Now that she’s there alone, she’s made changes while slowly preparing to sell it when the market improves. She had an old wooden toy of mine on a shelf, and my mouth started to drool excessively as soon as I saw it! I had chewed on those toys as a toddler, and I had a Pavlovian reaction to seeing them. Fascinating.

The only thing I remembered was the musty smell and the funky orange carpeting.

Not only do I walk through the house in which I grew up, but I can also do it for my pat. grandfather’s house, where I spent a lot of time until I was five.

When I have insomnia, I often stroll through both places, filled with amazing detail.

I can do it also for the other homes I have had, including apartments and two summer houses.

I grew up in a tiny little shit-box house in New York without too many inches in it, so they are all pretty easy to remember.

It seems that whenever The Old Man summoned my brother and/or me down to the basement for one of our regular beatings…..THAT staircase seemed pretty freakin’ loooooong…..

I lived in a different house nearly every year of my life for the 18 years I lived with my parents. My Dad’s hobby was buying houses, remodeling them, and selling them for a profit. He did this in addition to his regular full time job. The remodel nearly always consisted of updating the kitchen and adding a second bathroom. He did all the work himself and made thousands of dollars on every sale.

I can. I do. And I’ve written it down in detail for my younger siblings. It doesn’t seem to matter nearly as much to them as it does to me, though.

There were actually two houses. We left the first little place when I was eleven, and my parents were still in the second until I was 25. I remember them both in photographic and multidimensional sensory detail.

Not in the detail you are suggesting. I remember more details as I went from age 3 to age 6. I can picture many details of the house when I was six but it’s more like snap shots earlier than that. Here’s the garage window I broke with an axe. Here’s the bedroom where I drew pictures all over the wall. Here’s the dining room where I put my hands on my three year old brother’s head and found it was soft (he’d had a concussion and we didn’t know it.) Important reasons to remember stick.

I remember my childhood apartment. It had 3 bedrooms, one for the boys, one for my sister and I and one for my folks. It had 1 bathroom and kitchen/dining room, and living room.

Our beds was often changed in 3 directions. Our twin beds on either side of the window with a lamp table in between, and the dresser next to the closet, or one bed next to the closet with 1 bed by the window and night stand, or both beds side to side close to the closet and the dresser at the end by the window. This was the usual way for the winter because the windows were drafty. No a/c and we only had heat through the pipes next to the window and radiator. I remember the tree in detail outside our window. I remember every detail of the living room as well. It had a big window and we loved leaving it wide open in the summer. My mother had lots of plants on the window sill and around the window. It looked like a mini green house. I remember all the furniture and our first washer. I remember hanging ropes across the room to hang our laundry to dry. I even remember before the washer we had wash boards and had to wash our clothes by hand. I remember our tv console, and the old record player that was in a huge unit with a hidden compartment for the player and the albums.

I even remember the smell of pot roast dinner on Sundays after mass and the smell of other meals from different residents in the building and the sound of metal spatulas making noise as moms in other apartments prepared their sunday meals. I even remember how quiet the neighborhood would get on Sunday afternoons as all the kids where home for an early sunday dinner and prepare for school for monday. I remember the sound of handball being played across the street 6 days a week till the sun went down on the Saturday and on Sunday, everyone cleared the courts by about 5pm.

I remember a lot more but I think it is time to go to bed. So do you mean like that kind of detail?