I’ll never forget the first time I put on a pair of ice skates. The feeling of empowerment and the excitement of not knowing what would happen next. I was told once that you must skate alone before you can skate with someone else. This was great advice. I didn’t quite listen.
We would skate for hours together holding hands, exchanging kisses, and flirty smiles. The winter breeze had no effect on us. If anything it brought us closer together. I loved her rosy red cheeks and the gay look in her eyes. I felt like a school boy again. And if she weren’t holding my hand I would have floated away.
I’m not sure when it happened but suddenly we didn’t skate as much. Our glances became a lot more routine and less and less passionate. My skates weren’t as comfortable. Her eyes seemed a lot more cynical. I felt my age again and wondered if skating would ever feel the same for me.
I heard the ice cracking before I saw. The sound of the ice cracking made my heart drop. The ice begins cracking and I notice you don’t seem to care. Pieces of ice separate us. The sun and the weather show summer and I quickly take off my skates so I don’t drown. My first skates are gone and I’m sure next winter I will skate alone.