𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 | ᵍʳᵉʸˢ ᵃⁿᵃᵗᵒᵐʸ

𝑏𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑖 𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑐𝑒 | ¹⁹⁹⁴

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐍, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟒

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still feel it-the biting cold of winter in Manhattan. These memories are like a warm coat I wrap around my shoulders when the present gets too cold.

I was six years old, and everything I saw was magical.

Mom had bundled me up at home in my pink fluffy winter jacket and put on a hat that nearly covered my eyes. because my father, along with Uncle Mark and Aunt Amelia, had decided to teach me to skate in Central Park.

It was one of those winter days in Manhattan when the snow didn't just form a thin layer, but turned the entire city into a dazzling white sea.

I remember the crunch of the snow under our feet as we walked through Central Park.

At the entrance to the rink, there were big wooden booths where we could rent our skates.

"Hi, we need a pair of skates for my daughter here," Dad said, pointing to me. I held on to his hand, half hidden behind his tall stature.

"Oh, a little ice princess! How big are your feet, dear?" she asked me, bending down to pick out the right skates. Dad knelt beside me and pulled off one of my winter boots to check the size on the label. "She's a size 12," he said, handing the boot to the lady.

The elderly lady smiled happily and then dug through a large box to find the perfect skates for my tiny feet. "Oh dear, I'm afraid we're out of size 12. The smallest size I can offer is 14. I know that's a little too big, but with a few extra socks it might fit." Her voice was mellow, almost as if she feared crushing my expectations of ice skating.

Derek looked at me questioningly and I nodded slowly, though a little uncertain. "That should work, right, Missy? You can wear my thick wool socks, then your feet won't slip so much."

I nodded approvingly, excited for the adventure ahead regardless of shoe size. My father paid and the lady handed me the skates, which were a little too big.

With the large skates in hand, my father led me to a bench where we sat down to try them on.

I could barely contain my excitement as he helped me squeeze my feet into the bulky skates and lace them up.

Amelia and Mark were already waiting for us, warming themselves with tea from the thermos flask.

"There you go, sweetie, they're going to be a little too big, but you'll grow into them, okay?" dad said, his smile wide and infectious as he tied my laces with a precision that betrayed his former field hockey skills.

"But I don't want to grow into them, I want to skate now!" I whined, impatiently fidgeting with my feet.

"And you will, Missy. I promise," Mark said, standing next to Dad and laughing. He was Dad's best friend and kind of like my cool uncle.

I nodded eagerly, my eyes fixed on the shiny blades that would soon carry my weight.

It was the first time I felt skates on my feet. They were too big and clapped loudly on the concrete as we approached the ice surface.

At the edge of the rink, Dad took my shoulders gently with both of his hands. "Ready?" he asked, and I nodded, even though my heart was pounding in my chest.

The ice felt strange under my feet, slippery and unpredictable. Dad slowly led me forward, his hands gripping tightly around mine. "You're doing great, sweetie. Nice and slow."

Amelia, standing a little behind us, clapped her hands. "She looks like Bambi on ice," she laughed.

I remember gripping his hand tightly as my skates hesitantly scraped across the glistening ice. Uncle Mark, with a big grin on his face, held my other hand. "Your dad was one of the best on the ice. Now it's your turn, little princess."

I smiled at Mark's words, even though my heart was racing with excitement. I wanted to do well, I wanted them to be proud of me.

Then, I risked a look down, which made me tremble.

"Look ahead, darling, not at your feet. Imagine you're a superhero on a mission," Dad said, and I looked ahead proudly, as if I were on a secret mission to save the world, a mission only I could accomplish.

With every push Dad gave me, I felt myself speeding up, the ice beneath me fading into a blurred line of white and silver.

Slowly, very slowly, he released his grip. I was free, gliding a few uncertain feet on my own.
"Daddy, look! I can do it!" I cheered, my laughter spreading across the ice.

"I see it, sweetheart!" he called back, his eyes sparkling with pride.

"She's definitely your daughter, Derek. She got that drive from you," Mark added as we took another shaky lap.

"Let's try to go a little faster now," Dad suggested. The 'faster' felt like flying, at least to my six-year-old heart.

The wind whipped my face and I couldn't help but laugh out loud. "I want to do this every day!" I exclaimed, my cheeks flushed with cold and excitement.

There were no signs of what was to come - no cracks in the ice, no warning signs. Just the pure, unadulterated joy of a child learning how to fly on an ice-skating rink, surrounded by the people she loved, in a world that still seemed complete and unbreakable.

"Watch out, there she comes!" Mark warned, as I slightly lost control and slid right towards him.
At the last second he caught me, spun me around and put me back on my unsteady legs.

"Well done, Missy! You're going to be the ice princess of Central Park," he said, and we all laughed.

That memory sometimes keeps me awake at night, a sweet dream of what once was and will never be again.

I guess sometimes that's all you need; a piece of the past, shiny and clear like the ice on that cold winter day in Central Park.