Dad was born in Southeastern Kentucky, in the heart of Hatfield country. Grandma Hatfield lived down there, and when we would visit, my sister and I and a bunch of cousins would pile into an uncle’s pickup truck to go places, rollin’ round those old corkscrew mountain roads and having a blast 🙂
I’m a musician who discovered that she is 40% Scottish. Yes, I hear the fiddles and flutes (and sometimes bagpipes ; )
I may not have been born in the mountains, but my sister and I spent a lot of time there, as you may remember from my poems about our visits to Grandma Hatfield’s house. Those mountains remain in my spirit and my soul, and reside in my DNA!
This poem took a few weeks to come together, since it meant so much to me. It’s about the last time I saw my father, at his house in Florida, before he passed away. It was a magical visit. I will always remember it. I hope you like this poem, and that is resonates withContinue reading “I remember this (Ft. Myers, FL, 1999) for Dad”