Ice

Studebaker headlights glowed a dull yellow through the steam rising from the water that came out from the garden hose.“ The rink will be frozen solid by morning.” When you are four, being outside on a cold winter's night is quite the adventure, and watching your dad create something you had never imaged possible in your yard was quite the thrill. We had shoveled a clear area in the side lot; snowbanks forming a border for the ice. The taste of wet wool in my mouth was joined by a tingling from my toes, I had to go in, but didn’t want to.

The next night it seemed as if all the neighborhood kids were on our rink. My sister, with her pink scarf and mittens, skated in figure 8s with her friend Joyce. Kirby and Kevin, the Jensen brothers, were there too. I didn’t have skates yet, but enjoyed sliding around in my black buckled overshoes. I fell into a bank, and instead of rising, I just stretched out in the snow, and looked up at the stars of the big dipper—so clearly etched in the black sky they seemed to be diamonds.

Later on, we were called into the house, hot cocoa was waiting, and a winter’s night was never so perfect as then.