I'm not sure we can ever move again, because my partner, my son, and I live in a home that requires us to literally drive over the river and through the woods to get to grandparents' house. This is a life goal that I never knew I wanted until I reached it, since it allows me to now sing the old ditty freely and unabashedly whenever my partner and I take our son to visit. Though there can be a spectrum of emotions when it comes to visiting my family, the overwhelming one tends to be nostalgia. OK, technically the overwhelming one is stress because packing up a toddler for travel and then driving 300 miles is the worst, but that gives way once we arrive and then nostalgia takes over. My parents aren't living in the home I grew up in anymore (if they were, my heart would probably explode every time I arrived), but signs of my family, and of my childhood, are still everywhere.
I do understand there are plenty of people who have complicated relationships with their families, or who make different choices around their holiday celebrations, so my experience isn't universal. That said, my sense is that there are some common feelings that most of us have when we visit our old homes.