Tuesday Tales and Photo Prompt
Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
Laurel Cranmer made tracks down the snow-covered mountain. Her skis laid curling ribbon trails as she sliced through the freshly fallen snow. When she increased speed, the whoosh of her motion kicked up puffs of icy residue resembling smoke. This place was her paradise on earth.
Matthew
followed closely behind, although he gave her several seconds head start. He skied faster than she did in head-to-head
racing, but he decided to let her have this one. Lately, his interests involved more things
outside the competitive ski racing circuit. He wished Laurel felt the same way,
but he knew that would be impossible.
She had potential he never had.
Matthew
knew his limits, and although a top-notch skier in his own right, he would
never see Olympic glory. Training
remained his expertise. He coached future
Olympic champions, and he savored every moment with the young hopefuls. He knew
their feelings of intensity and the desire to be the best. He spent almost
twenty years in their skis. For all his dedication, he still failed to top the
podium.
Long
ago, he let go the resentment and accepted his shortcomings. He pushed his
energy toward building champions and found his niche. He instituted more
success than he ever dreamed watching those rosy-cheeked youngsters beam
wearing medals and waving first toward their parents-then he. He knew he found his place and it satisfied
him. However, he lacked love and for the
first time in his life, it saddened him.
Laurel skied in
that crowd of hopefuls he coached. Matthew met her eight years prior. She was a
gangly teenager who almost could not control her long, quickly growing legs.
Laurel smiled appropriately, yet remained aloof. Even as a teenager, she refrained from
engaging in silliness. She let nothing or no one detract her from her
goals.
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