My childhood was spent in northern Ontario. While most people dread winter, I have very fond memories of sledding, cross-country skiing and skating during the long winter months. My heart races at the sight of snow even after spending 28 years fighting snarled traffic in the area around Toronto. Now that I am retired, I spend most of my time in Arizona. I miss snow, marveling that it makes no sound as it falls, and hearing it squeak under my feet on very cold nights.
I want to give a special thank you to Rochelle for picking this week’s photo. Thank you Sarah Potter for providing the wonderful photo.
The cold glass bit my nose. Fog turned the solitary figure into a blur. Using my sleeve, I wiped the glass. In the glow of the streetlight, his shoulders hunched against the cold, my father walked back and forth swinging the garden hose in broad arcs.
My mother’s relief had entwined with mine when we discover last year’s skates still fit. Soon I would be twirling across that glistening surface. My jumps as high as my imagination would take me.
Sadly, seasons changed, years passed. Those days of backyard skating rinks lasted no longer than the blink of an eye.
Word Count: 100
Like the story, let me know. Have advice on how to improve it, please let me know. Click HERE to fall down the rabbit hole to more stories based on the photo prompt.