Personal Narrative: Learning To Play Hockey

It was the summer of 2011 and for months, I had pleaded and begged my mom, who was less than thrilled with the idea, to let me play hockey. I seemed to have finally succeeded, as my mother finally signed me up for lessons at Planet Ice, our local skating rink. It was a simple place with shelves lined with various figure skating trophies and padded skate-scratched floors, and it would soon become a place that I was proud to call my second home. I was absolutely ecstatic and overjoyed, at long last, to be playing the sport I loved but, my “learn to play hockey” lessons, as they were called, only turned into long, boring hours of skating around in circles and trying to master backwards skating. “I don’t need these lessons.” I told my mother. “And why is that?” She inquired. “These

I was still less than delighted with my “learn to play hockey” lessons, but I persisted, faithfully attending my lessons every week in the hope that my determination would show my mother that I deserved to join an actual hockey team. Sure enough, a couple of months later I had finally convinced my mother to sign me up to play on my first hockey team.
“Are you sure?” She had asked me as we stared at the Lady Jets Hockey poster hanging on the wall in Planet Ice’s lobby. I nodded vigorously, as an answer to her question, anxious to reach for my dream once again. She nodded in response and began to write down the details of the poster on a post-it note she had pulled out of her purse. Not even two weeks later, I was standing at the door to the ice, ready to take my first steps as an official hockey player. I was a bit timid. I was afraid I would be made fun because I was not as experienced as the other girls or that I would fall on my face. I was not going to let my fear hold me back though, because I seized the moment and stepped onto that slippery, daunting piece of ice, and I never looked