I completely forgot to post this on the sixth! Oops… Enjoy!
We play games with each other.
We can talk and we listen.
We always stand by each other.
We laugh, cry, and get angry.
Sometimes we’re near, sometimes we’re far.
But we will always be together.
A day early, but here we go…
My family and my friends: Thanks.
To my fun, steady job: Thanks.
My dog, cat, turtle, fish: Thanks.
For my home and car: Thanks.
And to my fellow writers: Thanks.
My life is so truly blessed.
The air chills more each day.
The leaves are slightly changing colors.
Red, orange, yellow, and some brown.
Break out the pumpkin spiced lattes.
Also, bring out the winter clothes.
The holidays will be here soon.
A day late, but here you go…
The first day is always hard.
New kids, new teachers, new classes.
I’m not ready for the homework.
And I’m not an early bird.
I’m already counting down the days.
One down, 179 more to go.
Six hour car ride: worth it.
Unpack the car, explore the house.
Splashing in the lake, having fun.
Listening to the soothing, calm waves.
Watch the beautiful sunset at night.
The week is ahead of us.
She stared towards the shining sun.
Sipping on a large iced coffee.
Heat burning into her tanned skin.
Sunscreen scent drifted through the air.
She heard splashing in the pool.
Summer had made its grand arrival.
Since six on the sixth is six six-word stories on the sixth of each month and June is the sixth month of the year (that’s a mouthful…), I decided to do a two-for-one deal today.
One for Mystery Month and one for all the fathers out there. Enjoy.
We played catch in the yard.
He taught me to play golf.
We always wrestled with my sisters.
He’d attempt to help with homework.
“Go ask your mother,” he’d say.
My one and only: my father.
The murder was shy and subtle.
There were no witnesses to talk.
There were no suspects to blame.
Questions were asked, answers never found.
Officers, detectives left dazed and confused.
In the end, hurt victims remained.
Driving to activities and friends’ houses.
Helping with homework late at night.
Listening to problems and giving advice.
Kissing every physical and emotional bruise.
Supporting me in everything I do.
That’s why my mom is best.
“Wear your lucky shirt,” they said.
I agreed, excited to wear it.
I stood before the slot machine.
I was confident. I was energized.
I pulled the lever and frowned.
I had run out of luck.
Our eyes met, it was love.
We dined, we danced, we laughed.
Tired of waiting, I leaned in.
Quiet, relaxing evening of being together.
A boy who looks like daddy.
We must have done something right.
Soft, fluffy flakes fall gently down.
Slippery spots cover the front steps.
Children build a fat, three-tier snowman.
Snow pants come off, pajamas on.
Steaming and sweet, I feel warm.
Cold, bitter winter has come again.