I was four years old, sliding my feet into the white boots, with the metal wheels that click-clacked over the bumps in the sidewalk. My mom skated along next to me in the skates she opened on Christmas morning.
Somewhere there is a photograph of her zipping past our house, clad in a Christmas morning nightgown and robe, with pure joy on her face. My mom always does things like that; with her whole heart, she flies through life.
I have learned so much from her.
Yesterday I was the mom with the steady skates, slowly skating backwards up our street, as Boy 2 and Boy 3 scuttled after me.
Boy 2 used my arm and caution as his guide, determined not to fall, and he slowly tiptoed along. It took several careful trips up and down the street until he could balance on wheels.
Boy 3 knows nothing of caution. Flinging his whole body forward, he fought with determination to keep up with me, and keep his feet under his body. It cost him some blood, but now that boy can skate.
We all bring our whole selves into every experience. I marvel at how my children learn distinctly, respond uniquely, and travel through their lives with their own personal map of how to live.
My own map sends me in roundabout directions sometimes. I’m part cautious passenger, part idealistic adventurer. I can’t seem to decide if I want to serenely avoid crashing or base jump off a bridge into the ocean with shouts of joy.
I am learning, though, that when it is complicated like that, there is usually a bridge awaiting my courageous leap.
After the boys were done skating, I sped alone up the asphalt. One big push with my left foot resulted in the entire boot cracking and splitting open. I guess seventeen years was the shelf-life of my skates.
I came down hard on my right hand. Blood rose to the surface of my palm, and I laughed at the absurdity of it all. I never fall when I skate.
Sometimes even the safest adventures can go wrong. Slow dirt roads can become bridges, and you jump before you realize what you’re doing.
I think I’ll ask for new roller blades for Christmas. I may even take a spin in my pajamas, because joy and jumping give my life meaning, and besides, my mom would love that.
