Short Fiction, short story, six sentence story

On Her Way Home

Photo by Frank Cone on

On Her Way Home

Shandy loaded up her beige Opal, the same reliable car she loved so much, calling her “Baby” since the first time she turned the key and the engine softly hummed, a sweet sound to hear. Heading to Iowa, she turned up her radio, playing the sweet sounds of Jim Croce, John Denver, and many other artists with whom she could sing along, a trip back in time, with her sweet “friends” in the airwaves.

After carefully studying her maps, she decided to go through the Missouri route, trying to avoid the long prairie like drive, something which, while it would be quiet, could be enough to make her sleepy and it was not long before she saw the Saint Louis Arch and gave it a salute while driving past the way. From Missouri she would meet the wedge of Illinois, Iowa, and Missouri and cross over to Iowa by way of the toll bridge in Keokuk, Iowa. Right before she came to the bridge, she looked off to the right and saw an eagle soaring, as if it were waving her on to Iowa.

Shandy waved at the eagle, “Goodbye, Illinois, thank you for your service, it was brief, but I will be back to see you soon,” as she knew that her destination was also in the border town of Burlington, Iowa and all she had to do was roll on over the bridge; the road ahead would take her to her aunt’s house and to a new life, one which Shandy was looking forward to starting anew, but she always knew she had the past to pushed her forward, as her beloved, deceased husband was always going to be the driving force for her success, with this, she would not fail, and that is what she believed.

This was my installment for this weeks Six Sentence Story. Perhaps you would like to writer a story for this week. Just go here to Girlie on the Edge’s blog hop and give us your spin on the weekly word of SERVICE


Cardinals As A Sign of Loved Ones


Artwork by my niece given to her grandmother. See more works at ks_montgomeryartist on Instagram.

This seems to be the chosen season for many, not all, but many of those who have departed to be either having a birthday or death date. When I come upon certain dates, I look for signs that they may be saying “hello.”

One of the signs often seen are cardinals. Ironically, both of my nephews who passed away were big St. Louis Cardinals baseball fans. Keith, whose birthday is February 28, loved the Cardinals so much that his family wore Albert Pujols shirts for the funeral.

My other nephew has a birthday coming up in March. Michael was fortunate to get to have his picture taken at the Cardinals site in St. Louis. Every year, his mother would make the trek across Iowa to put a flag on his grave. If she could not make it for weather’s sake, there have always been close friends to help her decorate the grave. She is now resting with Michael. When going to the gravesite, it has not been unusual to see a cardinal paying a visit.

When I have gone for walks, I have seen cardinals and always say “hello.” You never know if it might be a sign from someone who has passed on.
I was reading up on this and found out that many times spirits come to visit in winged form. Remember the feather in Forrest Gump? You just never know, do you?

As I was searching online for significant information I came across this POST by Craig McManus I think he has valid points here.

Here are some facts about the cardinal bird. In looking at these, I can see how they would relate to those I have lost. How about you?

Cardinals mate for all their lives.

Cardinals do not migrate, which is why I saw the female hanging out at the pool in winter.

Both the male and female of the couple look out for the well-being of their young.

I wrote two poems about my nephews who both left too soon. They are in my book Heart Sounds, but I will share them here.


Little baby

Came so early

Such a tiny bit

Then he grew and grew and grew

Such a treasure

Such a joy

Such a talent

Such a boy

Trying and learning

Practicing and succeeding

Putting forth and taking hold

Like a man

Too short

Too, too short

To leave and not be known

Will not be the truth

Always, always alive

To those who love you


A little toy car in his pocket

A rock, a stick, and always dirt

A smile to blast rockets

A tree not unclimbed

A green apple chewed up and spat

A frog, a fish, a cricket knew their boy

Sleepovers many a weekend

Staying up late with music videos

Sharing pickle juice with your sister

Studying to know your knots

Sharing laughter about life itself

Sticking close to your sister

Turn around

Take a bow

Take a test

Take a vow

Try and try

To be the best that you can be




That’s the way the world spins

That’s the way the world ends

Turn around

Take a bow

Take a vow

Try and try

To be the best that you can be

My dearly departed sister, Michael’s mother, holding the cardinal painting received from my niece:

Paula with Cardinal