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| {Four years ago today} |
I’ve been coming here for four years now, so I guess you could call it a tradition. The ice rink has layers of memories for me. I came here when I was a child, when my parents were young and my grandparents a youthful middle-age. I have echoes of memories, mental glimpses of relatives I no longer see. I remember skating at the rink with my siblings, and even my child-memory has retained with surprising accuracy the long, low-ceilinged rinks.
I think it was partly those memories that drew me here a generation later. Now I am a mother and my boys skate at the rink with their brothers. The first year we came to the rink to play hockey, Max was a mite. He had never played hockey and had just asked for skates the Christmas before.
This has become my way to remember. Rush and noise are effective numbing agents.
