Anchoring the Olympic Village, the old log chapel sat deep in winter's snow. Scattered among the trees, cabins waited with wood fires for warmth and bunks for nestling chattering kids and exhausted adults.
In the open space of the lodge, you could hear years of a thousand voices by looking to the ceiling, walls, and floor.
Just the place for learning, thinking, and journaling.
And behind the red kitchen door?
Much of everything. For the many who would need plates-ful of everything.
And for the cleaning up of all the everything? Lots of sinks, lots of steam, and lots of hands in baggy rubber gloves.
Then, it was time. All the events had happened, all the tummies were filled, all the bodies were warm. It was time to celebrate!
Gold, silver, bronze. As a sense of accomplishment was draped around each neck, a smile sprung across each face.
They are Olympians!