Skating

I used to skate. I used to enjoy being on the ice. I used to know my skate size when I went to the front desk. I used to know how to lace my skates without missing a loop. I used to know whether a coat was necessary at the rink or not. I used to skate fast: backwards, forwards, do a turn, spin, stop.

And then I stopped. Too busy. Too many other things. And slowly I forgot.

Now when I skate, I tremble as I step out on the ice. I must hold someone's hand. My knees feel weak, and I feel the rush of adrenaline every few seconds as I catch myself... tottering uncertainly. I remember the rush of the still air as I pushed it out of my way. I remember not being afraid of falling.

This season I have gone skating two times. Slowly those confident feelings begin to fill me again. They start in my toes, stretch to my heels, and lift upwards to steady my ankles, my knees, my beating heart. I am by no means a "good skater" but at least now I can sail without the hands of others, without terror etched on my face. The freedom of the air, the bite of the cold on my face, and the laughter of friends.