Monday, February 14, 2011

Love Story

Saturday night I looked out my 7th story window and noticed the rink was empty.

"Let's go skating." I suggested.

I hadn't skated since before I hit double digits, but it's like riding a bike, right? Easy-peasy.
Um. Not exactly.
I basically spent the majority of the time like this:

What struck me was the fear.

Fear made my legs go stiff. I didn't trust the surface of the ice; I didn't trust my balance. I locked my legs and swayed from the waist, too terrified to move.

"Take my hands," Keith urged me. I placed my hands in his and he pulled me along, gently, slowly.

I put my hands in his, and for a brief moment, I glimpsed a tiny sliver of our future together. I saw our three year old, skating for the first time, her tiny hands being held in her daddy's hands as he guided her around the ice.

The fear shifted, diminished.

I knew I wouldn't fall. I knew I was safe, my hands in his.

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