For some reason this morning I decided to look up the house that I grew up in on Zillow, just to see what it would cost to own my childhood home.
We moved from our house in Houston to Cat Spring in 1988. I have a lot of fond memories from growing up in this house. We were good friends with all of our neighbors. We lived half a mile from the elementary school. When I was in 4th and 5th grade, I’d ride my bike to and from school while listening to Genesis on my Sony Walkman.
I was brought home from the hospital to this house. I think I was in the 4th grade when dad would pay me $10 to mow the yard. Around that same age, I challenged my dad to a foot race on the sidewalk in front of our house. I was cocky and I thought my dad was an old man. We took off and he let me have the lead for a dozen yards and then he hauled off and smoked me. That’s when I knew my dad was invincible.
When we lived in this house, my parents made it a home and it was always in excellent condition and clean. Unfortunately it looks like owners since us haven’t loved and taken care of the house like we did.
Front of the house from Crystal Bay Drive 
We had a cool front patio 
My parents’ room. It looked out onto the back patio. One night I had a nightmare and came flying into their room through the door on the right. I missed that little step, tripped and ate it on their floor. 
This was my bathroom 
My parents’ room. 
The living room. I spent countless hours on the floor in here watching TV. 
The backyard. This is where I played. 
My bathrrom 
We spent a lot of time in this little galley kitchen. 
Master vanity. This is where I got the worst spanking of my life for getting caught shoplifting at Safeway. 
My parents and I spent a lot of time and made some good memories in our living room. 
My dad built that pergola. It’s probably 50-years-old. Dad built things to last. That was our hot tub too. We moved out of this house in 1988. 
This was my bedroom. 
My parents’ bathroom. 
The living room. We used to have orange carpet, and there was a huge oil painting of a lion on that big back wall. 
Master bedroom and vanities. 
My parents’ closet. I remember all of my dad’s suits and guns in here. And this is where they tried to hide my Christmas presents. 
The guest bedroom. 
Dad’s truck used to be parked in the left bay. Dad built an electric train platform out of 2×4’s, plywood, and fake grass. He rigged a hoist so it could be pulleyed up to the garage’s ceiling. 
There used to be curtains on this window. I tried to catch them on fire when I was 10.
I’d really like to make the trek to Houston to see if my old house even exists anymore. From what I’ve read, Hurricane Harvey decimated Bear Creek in 2017.
If the house isn’t there anymore, I’m sure I’d be heartbroken. But if I don’t go and at least try to see it at some point, I think I’d be equally heartbroken. I’d like to take my children to see where their dad grew up. I think that’s an important part of their history. Maybe I’ll play Genesis’s Invisible Touch album for them on the way there.
