The first time I went ice skating, I fell a lot. I didn’t want to fall the second time.
The ice rank was built on a field of grass, and I saw them pouring the water out of the large brown hose with the lights pouring down on them, and I thought I should take a picture, but I didn’t.
Then I saw the skaters–one time, there were just two of them, skating together on the large field of ice, the lights pouring down on them.
In the foggy cold morning, as the sun barely rises, the ice rink is empty.
When I came, I was still scared of falling. My skates were put on nervously. I walked to the ice rink slowly. I stepped to the ice.
One boy stepped onto the ice and immediately fell over.
My husband had never been ice skating. It was one of his unwritten life goals. It’s no longer one of his unwritten life goals, since he’s been ice skating now.
My husband was not so nervous as me, so he pushed off and wobbled, and then made those short, trembling steps of a person who has no idea what he is doing. But five minutes later, he soared off and ended his movement with an elegant turn. Some people have better balance than I.
My ankles were weak, my steps were short. I had to tighten my skates.
I didn’t want to fall, so I was slow. My husband ended up on the other side of the rink.
I watched a woman who had been ice skating her whole life. It was effortless–so much less movement to go forward. She skated on one foot as if it were easier than two. She held her arms out and spun, not for long, for she felt a bit silly, but the rest of us thought she was beautiful. I think she was over fifty years old, and she was better than everyone younger than her.
I watched a man with hockey skates that was more concerned with speed and going backwards than beauty. After watching the woman, you could tell he wasn’t as good.
I pushed off again, trying to make my strides longer. Trying to make them float.
While I couldn’t ever turn very much, or stop very well, or go very fast, it was all right. Because at the end, I was a better skater than the hesitant couple who very gingerly made their slow way around the perimeter.
I didn’t fall.