Chapter 8 Chapter 7: Winter

Today was tournament day—the day I had both dreamed of and feared. With my parents again unable to cheer me on, I found comfort in their absence, enjoying the quiet moment to gather my thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, I'd dodge their usual last-minute "we're so sorry!" pleasantries.

Stepping into my kitchen, I felt the familiar pang of anticipation that always comes with the smell of my mother's baking. But instead of my parents, there was only an atmosphere of love in the room, an echo of encouragement pressed against the walls as if they too understood my journey. On the kitchen table lay a note, folded neatly with delicate precision. When I unfolded it, it was like the sun had just broken through the clouds— it read, "Go, My Little Mermaid" in my father's familiar cursive. Next to it, my heart swelled at the sight of a bouquet of vibrant red flowers and a box that promised sweet bites of memory.

Those cookies! They were certainly baked with love and sprinkled with magic; my mother had a talent for making treats that could evoke warmth and courage from deep within me. I could almost hear her gentle voice, recounting stories of how each cookie was a little charm, a piece of her heart meant to carry me forward, no matter how challenging the waters. The nostalgia mixed with the bittersweet ache of their absence caused a tiny tear to slide down my cheek.

I gently inhaled the fragrant blooms, their sweet scent sparking flames of memories as flashes of childhood danced behind my eyelids. I pictured evenings spent curled up on the couch with my dad, feet splashing in imaginary oceans while various Disney characters appeared. Back then, with my wavy hair and the spirit of a dolphin, I was his little mermaid—a title I wore proudly. Even though they weren’t physically here to see me swim, these symbols reminded me that their love and support were woven into the very fabric of my being. With each nostalgic breath, I felt their presence beside me, urging me to dive into the depths of my dreams, and I realized that no distance could weaken the strength of their belief in me.

I threw the cookies into my bag, making sure to leave the flowers on the kitchen table as a promise that they would wait for me. As I slid into the driver's seat, the rush of adrenaline mixed with the comforting hum of the cookie-scented air, pushing me toward the swimming pool where dreams awaited.

As I parked in the busy lot, my heart pitter-pattered like rain on a window. The bright banners fluttered in the breeze, and the echoes of cheers drifted through the air like an uplifting song. I could feel the energy pulsing, a current I'd have to swim against. Competing with others had never been just about racing; it was a vibrant tapestry woven with challenges, friendships, and dreams.

Stepping out of the car, I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of chlorine and determination. Even with my nerves, I chuckled to myself as I remembered how my parents always joked about my flair for poetic dramatics, saying I could turn any dull moment into an epic story. "Swim, Winter, swim," I whispered quietly, channeling my inner mermaid as I walked toward the pool like a character from one of those animated movies, heart pounding and spirits high.

Once inside the facility, the excitement grew into a frenzy of anticipation. The blue pool glittered under the bright fluorescent lights, its surface rippling with energy. Groups of competitors huddled together, murmuring strategies, joking around, and practicing their starts. I saw my teammate Jenna, with her dark hair pulled into a sleek bun, her eyes shimmering like water reflecting the sunlight.

"Hey!" she called, a bright grin spreading across her face. "Are you ready to leave everyone in your wake?"

I offered her a smile, but inside, the tides of uncertainty still roiled. "I hope so. But what if—"

"No 'what ifs' allowed!" she chimed. "It's GO time!"

I admired her spirit, charming and infectious, but a shadow of doubt flickered in my heart. What if I didn't swim like the little mermaid I had always been? What if the waves of pressure were too much? But as I looked over at Jenna, who was radiating belief and enthusiasm, I couldn't help but remember my mother's gentle words: "You have the power, my little mermaid."

Resolutely, I pulled myself away from anxiety and slipped into my competitive mindset, much like diving into water, embracing the mermaid within and enjoying the coolness. The opening welcome, with cheers and applause reaching me like a siren's call, drew me into the depths of the unknown.

Surrounded by my team, rivals, and cheering spectators from the stands, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. Imagining the waves, the laughter, and the joy of being in my element, I felt the water's call to swim. Laughter and cheers echoed from the stands, blending with the rhythmic pounding of my heart. I was ready.

The whistle blew, piercing through the electric atmosphere, and I stood on the edge of the starting block, the scent of chlorine filling my lungs like a long-lost song. Time seemed to slow as I felt the smooth, cool surface beneath my toes. This was it. This wasn't just an ordinary race; it was my chance to swim not only for myself but for all the little mermaids who had come before me, and for those who dared to chase their dreams while holding onto the magic of the moments that shaped them.

As the countdown started, I could feel my heart pounding in sync with the rhythmic chatter of my teammates and the distant roar of the crowd. "Three… two… one…"

I exploded off the block, water erupting around me as I propelled into the pool with the force of a cannonball. The first stroke began, slicing through the water as if it were silk. Here, I felt at home—the resistance of the water reflecting my strength and my determination to conquer what lay ahead.

Every lap was a battle, not just against the other swimmers but within me. Paul, with his lean build and fierce determination, had already settled into his natural rhythm next to me. He was a tough opponent—fearless and aggressive but also radiating a contagious confidence. The strokes came quickly and forcefully, and I was keenly aware of the energy shifting around us, the clash of wills between teams showing in every stroke.