While I was growing up, my family moved around a lot. A LOT. I only vaguely remember most of the places we lived. If I visited my father's house now, I'd probably hardly recognize it. My mother hasn't lived there in years. One of my brothers has been at college, and the other one is about to leave. My dad's new wife and her three daughters just moved in, so who knows what it's like now!
My grandparents' house, however, hasn't changed. Okay, maybe that pile on the kitchen counter keeps growing. But I always know where everything is and what to expect. Grandpa still watches the Yankees while building model airplanes. Grandma still swims and drinks tea while watching soccer. There's a tremendous sense of continuity and stability.
I make a point to visit my grandparents whenever possible. I love them both so dearly. I love my grandmother's cooking and my grandfather's storytelling. Even if Grandma won't stop worrying that I'll never get married, I love being with them. Every time I go over the river and through the woods, I know that I'm going home.