StorySneak

 

The Art of Ice Skating

            I knew I was a true ice skater when a thrill ran through my body the very first time I saw that  beautiful, gleaming ice glinting in the bright light of the sun. 

      When I stepped on to the shining ice, and slid across it, skates parallel, flying across the frozen water beneath me, I felt like I was floating.

Floating on a sea of ice.

         And to this day, I still feel like that, that shiver that runs through my body as I slip on my white polished figure skating skates and lace them up.

    As I slip on my black skating dress and tights, my heart beating nervously, anticipating the moment when I would be with the ice again.

   As I step on to the ice, millions of eyes from the stadium focusing in on me.

  As I skate to the middle of the huge open rink and whirl round and round, fighting to stay balanced on a world of ice.

  As I leap high in the air and land, smoothly, gracefully, on the glinting ice, feeling glorious.

  As I receive  my golden first place skating medal and breathlessly finger the curved edge.

  As I stare out at that calling, silvery, gleaming, circle of ice, crediting it for my performance. 

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