Frozen Flight

It had been well below freezing for more than a week when she finally took out her old skates and cleaned the blades; she had not been on the ice since she was a girl, yet her mother had kept them. She'd seen them in the hall closet when she hung up her coat; every time she opened that door, they winked at her. It was not a trick of the light; those skates actually winked.

Someone had already swept the snow from the ice, creating a large oval arena; she noticed a few holes further out where fishermen had drilled; the ice was obviously thick enough for them. Nevertheless, hearing her father's voice in her head, she picked up the largest stone she could manage and dropped it onto the ice about a foot from the edge of the lake. If the edges held, the ice was still strong. No cracks.

She brushed some snow off a bench and began to lace up her skates. Her fingers moved quickly, strong and sure; they remembered. She stood up awkwardly, a little nervous, and stepped gingerly onto the ice. She stood there, waiting for something, and then took a tentative baby step. Before she could talk herself out of it, her knees bent and her legs moved in a deeply buried, nearly instinctual way; carrying her out across the lake.

Eyes bright, she flew.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Robin of Something New 4 You. Hand fabricated.