The searing pain that shoots up the back of my legs gets worse every time. This wall is my lifeline. The stares I get pierce through me like the cold ice that I skate on. A father and his son step out from my shadow. I have no choice; I must move away from the wall. As my fingertips lingered on the edge, I crashed down onto the ice. A familiar face appears from the throng of people. “Do you need help?” he offered. Without hesitation, he seemed to appear every time I fell. Stubbornly, I waved him off as I struggled to stand. By now I was soaked to the bone.
Each time I fell, time stood still. It took twice as long for me to stand up straight. An hour had passed since I had arrived for the party. I never would have pictured myself putting on a pair of ice skates and clumsily stepping out onto the ice. With the encouragement of my friends, I’d reluctantly picked out a size eight pair of skates. Dreading my time on the ice, I hadn’t realized the skates were a size too big and slowly strapped them on. It looked easy enough. Crowds of people had come to the rink and the rick filled up quickly. At least half of the masses were made up of children, most of them no older than 10. A group of them gracefully glided past me. If these young, vibrant faces could pull this amazing feat off, why couldn’t I?
For a moment, I felt invincible. I carefully placed my left foot forward onto the ice and then the right foot followed. I completely forgot that I was wearing skates and the ground beneath me was ice; I confidently entered the ice skating rink. No sooner had I done this, I was sprawled out on the ground. The time it took me to fall --- no more than two seconds --- I’d realized that I couldn’t skate. It was as if I had watched myself fall. My left skate continued to slide forward, while my right skate inched backwards. In a split second, I fell backwards and landed hard on the ground below. The pain shot up my backside like fire. I had a vague idea that falling would hurt, but not like that. I was in too much of a daze to think about the people around me. Slowly my vision came back. Someone said something, but I could barely hear him or her. “Are you alright?” they said. “What?” My mind spun. I looked around. “Are you alright, miss?” they repeated. I looked up and a boy around my age looked down at me with a smirk on his face. “Huh? I mean yes I’m alright,” I answered. Only a minute or two had passed since I had fallen. It was more than obvious that I was a beginner. I thanked him and clumsily I made my way back to the sidewall. I fell three more times. In a heartbeat, my brown haired, blue-eyed rescuer was there. The light that reflected off of his glasses only intensified the spark in his eye. His intentions were genuine and that smile said it all. I kick myself for not taking his hand. Eventually, I made it back to my lifeline.
A five year old could skate circles around me (at least 50 or more had that day). It was embarrassing enough that I couldn’t skate, but I had a complete stranger appear out of nowhere every time I fell. I’m thankful he was there, but I was too stubborn to give up when I fell the first time. As I clung to the wall I thought, “How am I going to get myself out of this one?” No sooner did this cross my mind; I heard a familiar voice behind me. “Are you alright?” he said.
----To this day, I regret not taking his hand.
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