Distilled
an experimental web journal
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Sat 13 Jan 00 I bought new skates today. A somewhat impulsive decision, this is. It had for a few weeks whispered in my ear, its time!--but my sense of reason and thin thin wallet had ignored it. That little voice eventually refused to be pushed aside any longer and I found myself this morning upon waking grabbed by the throat and dragged to the pro shop at the ice rink a forty minute drive down the road. There was nothing I could do to stop this. Above the door to the rink a sign reads: "Through these doors pass some of the greatest skaters in the world." I push through and enter the lobby. Ten am on a Saturday and its already full. Eager parents chat over coffee. Figure skaters run through their routines on dry land before hitting the ice. A large contingent of high-school age boys with bags twice their size slung over their arm and sticks in hand make their way in for a game. Young children bob and weave in and out of the crowd. In the pro shop its slightly more calm. An employee, dark-haired and with a slight Canadian accent, sizes me into a six "Mission" ice hockey skate, firm and pulled tight against my foot, molded to the shape of my heel and ankle through heating and rapidly cooling the skate. He unlaces the skates from my feet, chatting to me about my brother. Two years younger and twice my size at six foot eight and 230 pounds, he came into this skate shop half a year ago and walked out with a special order size 15 skate for his size 17 foot. A player like that you don't forget, either on or off the ice. He takes my skates back to sharpen them, and I am left alone for a few moments to peer about at the sticks and pads and other assorted gear that surround me. I try and remember how long its been since I was last on the ice in any way, shape or form. I mentally tally the years, thinking back through the events that marked them, and realize its been since late 1997. A little over three years. By the time my order is together, an hour has passed. Skates under my arm, I exit the rink, my thoughts buzzing with plans for the future. |
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