Magic Earmuffs

January 19...

I had expected to be colorful at the end of the day. Purple and blue and yellow hues adorning my skin all over. No, I didn’t start volunteering at a preschool, or return to my childhood roots, or begin painting a mural.

I had expected to be feeling. Tremendously aware of my spine, tailbone, and knees. Cognizant of every muscle , every joint, every motion. No, I’m not on a stint of becoming one with my emotions, or nature, or anything like that, though I would love to wrap my arms around a giant tree right now, and feel the bounce of the forest floor beneath my feet. It’s happier than snow, ice, and concrete.

I had expected to be embarrassed. To be the laughing stock of little kids, and universities students, and vendors, and maybe even whatever little creatures are still alive in the line of grass and trees between one way and another.

But when I got out there, tightened up my laces, put my bright red Olympic mittens on, and stood up, I found myself nervous, but steady as the blades beneath me carried me over bumpy ice.

I had hoped to be able to borrow some earmuffs from a friend. I’d planned it for weeks. I would get out there with my earmuffs, and skate, then fall, skate, then fall, while my friends helped me up and silenced their amusement until eventually I could sort of blend in with the locals, for whom this is just a part of life, and at 18, no longer some sort of rite of passage.

I remember watching Piglet learn to skate. When Pooh finds out he’s not playing hockey (or ice-cookie) because he can’t skate, the friends decide to teach him. Christopher Robin lets piglet wear his earmuffs – magic earmuffs- which piglet believes are the only reason he can skate.

And so I was going to wear these earmuffs, and take pictures with my ice-skating friends. And I was going to write a beautiful blog about self confidence and learning to glide down the ice on my own.

Piglet learns, when trying to rescue Pooh after the ice breaks, that the earmuffs weren’t magic after all: he saves the day, on his skates, without the earmuffs.

But I stood on the skates, and cautiously skated up to my friends, and then we took off, down and around and across the canal we went. It was freeing. It was exhilarating. And the smile that I had was real, completely real. And a little foreign.

Taylor and I skated the entire open part of the canal. We stopped and had the last beavertail before the stand closed. We took pictures of the trees that have been placed in the canal, of the “Bacon Bunner” sign, and of how grossed out we were.

And I was colourful: rosy red cheeks, bright eyes, white snow in my hair colourful. And I was feeing: unwrapping a fabulous birthday surprise, the first plunge into quiet waters, heart pumping joy through my body feeling.

And I was laughing – like the little kids, and university students, and vendors, and parents, and whoever else was around.

This is a Winter wonder.