Several of my neighbors shouted. “The ice rink is ready! The ice rink is ready!”
Many fathers, including my stepfather, had spent weeks clearing and preparing a space for the six apartment complexes to play ice hockey and for their families to ice skate on family night. The last few days had been particularly cold in the Canadian North allowing the ice to become clear as glass.
My mother cheerfully told me. “You’re going to learn how to skate today. Put on your coat, mitts, and boots, and bring your skates.”
“Should I take them out of the box?” I asked. For Christmas, my mother had given me a pair of white figure skates. I was disappointed with my only gift that year because I didn’t know how to skate or what the sport was about.
‘Yes, yes. Now hurry up,” she answered.
I trailed behind my mother, worrying about how to get my feet into those skates let alone stand on them or glide across the ice. When we got to the ice rink, I sat on the high snowbanks and watched. My mother put on her skates and stepped on the ice. Off she went. My stepfather, an avid hockey player, donned his hockey skates and was whirling around the ice like he was flying. He grabbed my brother’s hand and began to teach him how to snake through anyone skating nearby.
My mother passed by. “C’mon. Just try. You’ll love it! I’ll help you put on your skates.”
I wasn’t so sure. Everything about it scared me. The sharp blades. The people on the ice. The whooping and hollering. The older kids zipping by, pretending to bump into each other. And a teenage girl spinning in a circle, her red skirt swirling around her. How can she do that? I gingerly took off my winter boots and put on the skates. My mother tied them tightly. My feet felt as if they were in a vice grip.
“Okay, then. Just step onto the ice and go for it,” my mother said before she took off.
I watched as she circled the rink and felt myself move slightly downward, toward the ice, and quickly tried to stop myself from falling. But it didn’t work and before I knew what was happening, I slid off the snowbank and onto the ice. Swoosh! I landed upright and the skates instantly did what they were supposed to do. I was flying across the rink. Afraid to fall into the adjacent snowbank I pushed my right foot forward, then my left, swinging my arms at my side to keep from falling. I kept going and going, gliding with one foot, then the other, coasting around the corners –trying to catch up with my brother.
When I did, I yelled. “Look, I’m skating!” I felt as free as a bird!
I might’ve been the last person on the ice that day. My mother was right. I loved it! But I think I loved the lesson even more. It’s amazing what can happen when I just let go and get my head out of the way.
“You can only lose what you cling to.” Buddha
Enjoy the Passage of Time.
Sharon
© 2024. Sharon Kreider. All Rights Reserved.
