Six Word Story (110)

I use to get splinters as I stacked the wood my family used to heat our home in winter. Dad used gloves but I hated them. Even in winter, I preferred the feeling of bark against my skin, it gave my little hands a better grip.

First, we stacked it in rows behind the garage, then before winter we would all take turns loading the back of the truck, or even sleds with wood and moved it indoors, throwing it down the old-fashioned wood shoot. Once it was inside the word still wasn’t done, it needed to be stacked again to make more room for another load of wood. Back and forth back and forth…

We spent our time doing the necessary. Then when winter hit and the furnace was fired up we spent trees whose rings represent all the time they gathered into their trunks year after year, expanding, giving life to the world.

What a gift their end was to our family.

What a gift our time was to each other as we hauled each load and stored it for those cold Canadian months.

Each moment we spend time, but have you ever thought about whose time you are spending? It’s almost never just yours.

Copyrigt ©2023 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Story (85)

Out of the sustaining cycles of life, the water cycle is one of my favorites to think about.

Every drop in the ocean would once have been rain that every flip of a fin stirs, and every current shares with the whole earth.

The beauty of our word is memorizing.

I see intent and intricate planning in its design. This belief doesn’t make me afraid of science, as some people think of those who are religious. No, it lends me a joy as I contemplate the puzzle pieces.

But I am also a dreamer, not a scientist. Still, the thought of ‘what if’ pulls at my heart, maybe close to the same way as it would for my calculating brothers and sisters?

What would it be like to ride those vapors?

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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The Pansy’s Purpose/Calla Press

I have again been honored by a publication on Calla Press.

The Pansy’s Purpose is a creative non-fiction story, told from the viewpoint of a small garden pansy. It’s a very personal story, and I feel it has found a perfect home.

The little flower was waiting. It sat quietly with its siblings in a plastic tray. The sun was warm, the waiting long. But what else was there to do?
A woman with tired, anxious eyes came looking for the right blooms. First impressions were important, things needed to be just right.

The Pansy’s Purpose

I invite you to visit Calla Press, to read the full story. Make sure to let me know what you think afterwards!

Mary Grace van der Kroef

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