“The Purple Pencil” by Stacey DiTata

Pencil header

Stacey DiTata is Editor and Feature Writer for Sown Seeds.

“The Purple Pencil” by Stacey DiTata

I picked it up. The shush of the ocean was over my shoulder and to my back. I was standing on a hill partway up the mountain that overlooks the ocean. One would normally bend to pick up a shell or a smooth stone while listening to that sound. I was facing the mountain and this was not an artifact from the sea, but a pencil nestled within the sand lying amidst the weeds and debris at my feet. It was not shiny but dull. Not even dulled by use as the point was smooth and the pencil long and ready. It wasn’t a jewel, something to treasure, or something smooth to make an occasional wish. It had no spectacle other than it was purple. I bent to pick it up.

I can count the times that I have held a purple pencil. An art class essential, they are usually tight within a box part of a harmonious rainbow collection leaning side by side peaking out of the box’s cutout cardboard window. Hexagonal sides flat to each other rub like puzzle pieces matched and snapped perfectly placed in a linear arrangement that slide and clink in the box when shook or carried.

I imagined it must have fallen out of this box of perfectly partnered colors snapped from its group like a flower picked from a field. A purple pencil at my feet comfortably spiked amidst the gravel and sand.

I smiled.

Dropped by an angel over my shoulder with my back to the ocean.

I pick it up and write.

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Categories: Prose, Storytelling

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One Comment on ““The Purple Pencil” by Stacey DiTata”

  1. June 3, 2014 at 6:53 pm #

    I love this Stacey – it made me teary again! It reminds me to appreciate the simple beauty in life and of the love that is all around us – thank you. Love you, Ann

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