Alone in the World

Once again, the world changes....

The last time I was on blades, I felt wonderfully enabled.

Today, I simply feel awkward.

Of course, we shouldn't have gone. It is very cold, and windy, and my bones ache a warning at me. But I had promised, and the children want very badly to go, and try out Their Very Own second-hand store skates.

It is always interesting to have the world to ourselves, and we notice that this afternoon, the three of us, alone in the rink, skating every which way, instead of in repetative ovals. Because my focus is on the surface of the ice, the chill of the air, and the sensation of my feet in strange gear, I am uneasy. The ice seems slicker than it ought to be. I notice that my strokes are uneven, that I balance better on the right than the left, that I can turn this way but not that....I should be grateful to be skating at all. And I am; I simply want to be perfect, to be flexible, to be strong, to be as invincible as I believed I was before October the 10th.

The children are less joyous than last time, when their friends were here. Garrett falls, striking his head. He allows me to coax him back onto the ice for a bit (the get back on the horse school, call me old-fashioned), and then we make our exit after Alaina falls on her tailbone. She is more affronted than injured, but an injury of pride still smarts. We go for hot chocolate at a sweet cafe across the way...which we have to ourselves. Complimentary Internet sucks me in for a bit. Next, my favorite used bookstore. Which we have to ourselves. Why can't I get out of that place without spending twenty dollars?

We return home, where it is not strange that just the three of us exist, sadly. Rehearsal allows us all the oportunity to be with people, though I am separate in my mental gyrations, trying to shape the visuals of this play. I feel, from time to time, the cast giving me odd looks. Absently, briefly, I wonder what is the cause of that, what they think of me, then inhale and move on.

I drive a cast member to his home: his mother won't be off work for another half hour. By the time I pull up to the house, both children are asleep. In the house and off to bed they go; I am alone once more.