As far as home things go, this month is shaping up to be a tough one for me in the heart department. As though it werenâ€™t enough to be saying goodbye to my childhood home, which is now on the market, I also moved out of my all-time favorite apartment in Manhattan as my twin sister moved in with her long-term beau. To be clear, I couldnâ€™t be happier for all parties involved: My parents are moving on to the next phase and building a brand-new home for their retirement, my sister is exploring the joys of decorating with the man she loves and I get to outfit a new, (but still technically very old) apartment in the neighborhood, and we all know how I feel about that. So, fun, new beginnings all around, yes, but as a girl with somewhat of a sentimental streak and a real connection to â€œhomeâ€, the changes do bring about a few moments of pause. Never again will I live with my twin sister on the same street where my parents got engaged, in the apartment that has hints of my Dadâ€™s handiwork all over it, from the paint to the spackle, to a small print he had in his first apartment. Numbered are the days I have left in the house where I lost my first tooth, welcomed and said goodbye to a beloved pet, and journeyed out for preschool and prom. Yes, leaving places is a part of life and Iâ€™m not devastated by any means, but I do associate both places with some of my very dearest memories, so I have to ask: Do you have a home or homes that you remember most fondly of all the places youâ€™ve lived? Do you have specific memories that always come to mind when you look back? â€“Sarah C.