My first home was small and in a bad neighborhood. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a great room that served as entry/sitting room/family room/dining room, then a hallway of a kitchen with the laundry behind folding doors in the kitchen was what we had to work with. It needed a great deal of improvements, but by the time it was sold, it was a lovely little home.
I don't miss the terrible neighborhood, but every once in a while, I get to missing the house itself because so many memories were made there. My parents walked within those walls. Three out of four of my babies were brought home from the hospital to there. I regained my testimony of the gospel while living in that home. It will always be special to me for those reasons.