Seven and a half years ago I met a boy. And I liked him, he was so tall! He told me he used to play hockey, and I told him I was a terrible skater. He told me he’d take me skating and teach me how to skate.
The winter passed.
The next winter I reminded the boy of his promise to take me skating, and one day in late February or March we made plans to go skating. We went to Storybook Gardens in London Ontario. It was raining. There was a sign it said something along the lines of “Go home you crazy fools… it’s raining out here, and the paths are all slush.” It was a long time ago, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it said.
The winter passed… and passed… and passed… and passed… and passed… and passed… and passed…
And then we moved in together… and I got skates for Christmas! And tonight… 7 years 3 months and 17 days, after the fateful day we met… we skated.
There is a rink down the street from us, so we bundled up, and walked down after work. We had thought that perhaps we’d go skating a few times a week this winter – part of the resolution to get mobile, but when we got to our rink we learned it’s $3.50 each to go skating! Brutal. We paid, and we were the only people there, and the rink is cleared with a Zamboni, and there was music… but still charging for access to an outdoor rink? What is the world coming to?
The boy quickly realized he would be putting his teaching skills to work, and just how much work lay ahead of him, but by the end I was doing laps and drills! I went from awkardly pushing off with my toe pick to gliding* along on one skate! (*gliding may be a bit of an exaggeration)