Tears freely flowed down from my eyes. Crying brought pinpricks of pain on my cold cheeks from the hot tears. I absolutely hate ice skating. The ice never gave me any slack, my feet would slip out from underneath me every single time. With my knees and the back of my head bruised; while flaring like fire in pain I couldn’t stop crying. Skating was the worst thing on the planet. My mother decided for Christmas she would try and teach me how to use the new skates I had gotten. Of course deciding to teach me was not the hard part. It was actually getting me to stay on my feet rather than smack down on the frigid ice. “You’ll get it soon,” Mum kept encouraging me. That was easy for her to say, after all my mom moved like a dancer when on the ice. She never ever falls. Me on the other hand, …show more content…
“Would you like to give it another go or call it a day today. The bruises on my skin begged me to go home. Although for some reason I was determined now with confidence in me from nowhere. Those ice skates would not make me quit so I chose to get back on the ice. Putting them back on, I got back on the ice. Clinging to the wall I was crawling across the ice. As I started to feel i’d be okay I travelled off the wall. It was pretty slow going at first and me being in my poofy purple jacket I probably looked foolish. But after awhile the skating just came to me.
Looking back, I kinda laugh at how I acted. Because now I can whip across the ice pretty well. Yeah falling still happens, but that’s okay. Gliding across the ice now bring me joy. Also a certain sense of freedom from my clumsy walking. If you had asked me 8 years ago what I thought of skating, I would tell you it could end for all I care. But now, my heart is stuck on the ice. Just last summer my mom and I taught my brother how to skate. He hated it as well at first but after a little hot chocolate and a pep talk I could now give him. I’m glad I didn’t give up on