When I was 7 years old, my mother enrolled me in a beginners ice skating program at the local ice rink. Their curriculum consisted of basic ice skating techniques such as maintaining balance on the ice, learning how to move and stop, how to navigate around objects, and other various skills.
The lessons led up to a final performance showcasing the techniques taught from the program; all themed around a “mini olympics” with each group being divided between an olympic ring colour. I was in the blue team and my mother bought a corresponding skating gown adorned with rhinestones and ruffles to wear for the performance.
Day of the “mini olympics” and we were running late. I don’t remember why in particular, maybe it’s because it took longer than anticipated for me to get dressed up and styled for the performance, or maybe I woke up late, either way my mom was growing more and more agitated, which culminated in me tripping onto the dirty snow as we rushed toward the driveway, my stockings getting muddied in the process.My mom blew up, and I can’t recall whether she only scolded me or hit me at that moment. All I know is that she was furious and must have said something about not going to the performance anymore. I was devastated and the memories begin to blur at this point; I think I was crying on the bed, changed out of my clothes because of the mud. Later my mom came in and told me to get dressed again. She cleaned the mud off the stockings and dried them enough for me to wear. I’m not sure if I put up a fight or followed her orders promptly. I had a habit of completely giving up and continuing to feel sad about it, even when I was given another chance or a consolation reward when I was a kid after all.
I got dressed up and we were on our way to the skating rink— we heard music playing from the lobby and we knew we had to hurry, hoping we had enough time for the other teams to do their performance before mine was up. My mom laced up my skates, and as we ran into the rink it was already too late—my team was on the ice doing circles in a line around the arena.
I was crushed. There was nothing we could do at that point. They were already in the middle of the routine, and I wouldn’t have been able to sneak in and continue where they left off since I wasn’t sure how far along they were or how much I had missed. We walked back to the changing room and got me out of my skates. Afterwards, we moved up to the spectator benches and decided to watch the rest of the performance. I think I had a friend who was also in the program but on a different team, and my mother wanted to talk with her mom since they knew each other. All I can remember is that my body wracked with hiccups as I cried and cried, until a woman in the audience noticed and asked my mom why I was so sad.

“It was too late for her, she couldn’t make it on the ice.”

Currently Listening to:
Nothing

Feeling:
Contemplative