Where I Live: Crestwood was an idyllic place to grow up. I hope I can still afford to live here when I have kids of my own
I’ve lived all but seven years of my life in Crestwood. Weeks before I was born, my dad finished rebuilding an absolute wreck of a house into my cozy childhood home, where I spent the first 20 years of my life.
It was a dream of a neighborhood to grow up in. The West Fork of the Trinity River wraps around us, leaving two main passageways in or out. The lack of through traffic meant we could play in the street as much as we wanted. The surrounding levees offer the perfect place for sliding down hills on cardboard after it rains, or building forts during our annual snow/ice storm.
The Trinity Trails provide great freedom, especially for kids and cyclists. A scenic trip to downtown is less than a 30 minute ride away. The woods that cover a large swath of the neighborhood were a fantastic place for all us neighborhood kids to play and get lost. We took advantage of nature at our doorstep and spent most of our time outside. There was nowhere our parents didn’t feel we were safe.
Growing up, the neighborhood was pretty diverse. The rich people in the front, the less privileged in the back. There were families of all ages and from various backgrounds. Houses of varied styles and eras. I’ve been told the neighborhood used to be an orchard, which feels true because big old beautiful trees have always been a prominent part of Crestwood, including one cul-de-sac where the trees still exist sporadically in the middle of the street.
And we’re located near the heart of Fort Worth: just 3 miles west of downtown, 2 miles north of the museums, and a short drive from everything you’d need. All in all, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more idyllic place to grow up.
When I moved back to Fort Worth in 2017, I spent a year living in South Main Village while it was being built into what it is now. Even though that checked every box of an ideal place to live that Crestwood didn’t — a dense, urban neighborhood with nearby shops and public transportation — I quickly got priced out of the neighborhood. That’s when a friend of mine, who also grew up in Crestwood, suggested we get an apartment together in Crestwood Place Apartments, just four blocks from where we were both raised.
I had driven past them my whole life and never paid them much attention. The set of old red brick buildings, full of character and nestled behind a collection of big oak trees, turned out to be amazing — and surprisingly affordable. The trees outside every window made it feel like you were living in a forest, though we still got to enjoy being so near the urban core and just a short walk away from beautiful trails.
In 2018, my grandfather passed away, leaving his house to my brother and me. It is located directly behind my childhood home, where my father still lives. I never thought this would happen. The odds of owning a home as a millennial felt impossible, let alone owning a home in such a wonderful neighborhood that I have so much history with. My height growing up, and my brother’s, are still present on the kitchen walls.
It’s been wild to see how the neighborhood has changed during the few years that I was away. The neighbors got older, richer and whiter, but the biggest shock was all the new houses. It feels like every time a house is for sale in Crestwood, someone rich buys it, tears it down and builds the largest possible house they legally can.
Huge, soulless boxes with no real yard to speak of, and often without trees. It’s been heartbreaking to see the huge, gorgeous trees disappear one by one. Often, the new neighbors are older or people without families. They rarely seem to leave their house, except to get in their giant cars. Their massive houses make everyone’s property value rise tremendously, making the property taxes even more unaffordable — especially for the folks who have lived here forever. We receive a near-constant stream of calls and mailers asking us to sell. It is depressing to see a place I loved so much start to lose so many of the traits that made it so lovely.
But during the pandemic, I began to notice a shift. More people were out walking around, talking with their neighbors again. I started noticing more kids riding their bikes around, befriending other neighborhood kids. My neighbors and I would share gardening tips and seeds. We’d talk about how we could be more sustainable and friendly to our local wildlife (including the many neighborhood cats). I often see neighbors throwing dinner parties in their yards or sharing books at the Little Free Library I built in my front yard. The folks getting involved in the neighborhood association are younger and more inclusive. It feels like it’s slowly turning back into the neighborhood I grew up in.
I know it’s impossible to go back to how idyllic Crestwood used to be because it’ll never be truly affordable again. I’ll always worry about being priced out by the surge of monster homes. But I’m proud of the community that my neighbors and I are building. I’m glad my wife gets to run along the Trinity Trails every morning, and that we can easily ride our bikes downtown or to the museums. I’m glad my neighbors are being more mindful of the nature and wildlife around us. I’m glad the neighborhood kids are enjoying the outdoors more and befriending my cat Lasso who dutifully guards our house.
I hope that we can become even better stewards of the nature that surrounds us. I hope that we can welcome more diverse housing into the neighborhood to make it more affordable again. I hope that we can help guide the growth all around us so that we don’t get swallowed up by development. I hope Crestwood continues to be a lovely place to grow up so that one day I get to raise a kid here who can enjoy the neighborhood the way that I did.
Wesley Kirk is a photographer, filmmaker, arts organizer and small business owner. He lives in the Crestwood neighborhood of Fort Worth with his wife Amanda and their cats Lasso and Pan Dulce.
