My Nerve Skated Away

I used to ice skate.       

In the beginning, I remember my father pulling me around on the ice. I remember once refusing to get up after a fall and spending a long while making an “ice angel” on the white ice. By the time I got to first grade, I would hold my father’s hand as we skated around back yard ponds.

At about the age of ten, I developed a routine. I remember it well. Traversing a pond, climbing over a snowy culvert and skating up and around another pond to an island just before the cove, where I would stop to say hi to the ice fisherman. (There was always at least one ice fisherman.) Then, I would skate back to my boots.

I also remember that long after my hot chocolate, my feet stayed numb and my toes itched. Looking back, I realize my “woolen sox” were acrylic. Ouch. Even so, within days, I would be back on my ice skates.

In my early teens, I took figure skating lessons on an ice rink. I recall ice shows at which I would skate as part of a chorus. My personal fan base would far exceed those of the the soloists. Knowing how many people came just to see me is likely how I survived the performances without tripping!

Fast forward decades: I’m afraid of the ice beneath my skates. My knees shake. For so long, I had looked forward to free admission for those over sixty-five at Massachusetts State Skating Rinks. My father skated into his seventies. What happened to me?

Thinking about skating, I remember my father assuring me: “It’s OK to fall, as long as you fall gracefully.” 

TATTOO—Journeys on My Mind by Tina Marie L. Lamb

GET this paper book or e-book at 

Amazon.com  and Barnes and Noble and Apple Books.   But to buy on Amazon outside the USA, click HERE.

The audio book is currently available on Google Play and Chirpbooks and Kobo and The Podcast App.

 

 

To subscribe to Weekly Posts from LipstickonJenga.com

Posted in Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

*

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.