Ice, Ice Baby
5:45 mornings at the ice arena bite. Sas has a lesson with her freestyle coach before school. Sas is not on the Olympic track, but don’t tell her that. She has a morning routine that would make Rocky Balboa proud, minus the raw eggs of course. It only takes her 10 minutes to get dressed (unless she turns on the T.V., or slept in her skate wear); once we get to the ice rink she warms up with a little jog and some jump rope. I help her lace her skates and she’s off! Then I hobble over to the bleachers with the other skate zombie mommies and huddle with my winter parka (even in July). Some mornings she needs encouragement, or applause, other times a kick in the behind and a reminder that she can always play soccer instead. But mostly she’s eager to work hard on her skating goals.
These are her “working hard tights”. Each hole tells a story of a toe-pick encounter.
This is her jump rope. She has whipped a lady in the face really hard, because she didn’t turn and look behind herself before jump-roping… That lady was me.
She says; “Momma, this is what you would look like on the ice at 6 o’clock in the morning.”
She is turning so fast you can only see her on film. With the naked eye she turns invisible because of her centrifical acceleration (big words eh?)
When I sit on the bleachers freezing, and tired, I can’t help but have a smile on my face. I know that this special time with her is very temporary. She is growing so fast. Often I ponder what it will be like many years down the road when Sas is all grown up and a mother herself. When those days arrive, and I have an opportunity to come back to this rink, I know the memories will be bitter sweet. I can almost hear the echoes as they will be then. Sounds from this fun time with her, the tears, cheers and laughter will all too soon become a memory. I am happy to live in this moment, we still have many more exciting memories to make, but I can feel these young moments slipping away. I want to sit on the bleachers and make it all slow down, but as my teeth begin to chatter, I decide maybe not.
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