Breathe of Fresh Mountain Air

On my visit to my Dad’s New Old Hometown, Belfry, KY, a small hamlet on the other side of the WV border where he grew up, I helped him move into his new house. After the work was done, we when four wheeling around the mountains surrounding his house. And when I say surrounding, I mean surrounding. Dad’s house is up a hollow (holler to the locals) consisting of a single lane road and a creek for mountain rain run off.

At the top of the mountain was a clearing that looked more grassland than mountain top. It was nice to spend some alone time with my dad. That hasn’t really happened in a hundred years. We had real fun together, something that also hadn’t happened in a long time. I fear these opportunities are running out as neither one of us is getting any younger. I need to make a more concerted effort to make these things happen more often.

While driving the four wheeler, I nearly tipped it over traversing a rut in the trail. My dad just laughed it off. That wasn’t always the case. As the oldest son, I felt an unbearable pressure to be perfect. Not that my parents put pressure on me; it was mostly self-induced. However, it was nice to be free from judgment, both his and mine. It was freeing to not have to be the perfect son, and just be his son, enjoying each other’s company.