(originally presented on Facebook the day the story occurred as dated. One of things on my list to move over...better late than never. I saw a little girl learning to skate the other day and it brought back this memory)
This is a true story, that happened today, Jan. 3, 2011. It has not been edited.
My daughter learned to skate on roller blades today. She's had crappy, cheap versions of them in the past, with unmanageable, flat wheels that are only good for about 2 minutes before they get too pocked to roll. Yes, I bought them for her, perhaps with the cloaked understanding that they would keep her slow, keep her close, and keep her from falling too often.
Then as young girls are wont to do, she asked for better skates. She said she wanted to move like the other kids on the street - winding in and out of driveways, using their wheeled freedom and exhilerating speed as a small escape from the trappings of flip flops or sneakers.
So I finally gave in this recent holiday season. I found the coolest pair I could for the budget I was willing to invest, and they are pretty cool, actually. Black with hot pink trim and some Ed Hardy-esque stylings on the sides. But the important thing was the wheels. Real wheels, capable of manuevering up and down, over and under, in and out of the obstacles of suburban developments.
She kept asking to use them, since Christmas, and I kept putting it off - explaining that she had to find her elbow and knee pads first in our garage (and if you've ever seen my garage, you know my plan was set to buy some substantial time). So finally today she dug them out.
And I, reluctantly, agreed to help her out.
She held on so tightly at first, I thought my arm was going to fall off. My daughter, for seven, is quite tall, and is the size of an average 10 year old, and now up on her skates is even bigger (thank goodness for my 70 inches of height, or I might feel a bit overwhelmed!). But there she went, more walking than skating, scraping the ground with the sides of the wheels, intent on not falling down, pulling harder and harder on my arm.
My son was on his bike, riding ahead, and returning often to check on our progress as he dutifully taunted his sister about her inability to keep up with him or even our small dog. She took it all in stride, and was dead set on getting this skill mastered.
A few wobbles here, a couple of whoopsies there - she admitted she was glad to have put on the pads that I insisted on. But she kept going. And her strides became longer. And her grip became looser.
She'd let go for a second, then grab on again desperately. Laughing all the way.
And her strides became longer, and her grip became looser. And she'd let go for longer.
Eventually, her brother had had enough and challenged her to a race of sorts, insisting he could lap us around the lake before she could reach the 300 feet to the stairs. Her head went down, her elbows up, like a roller derby girl and she accepted. But she grabbed my hand and said, "come on, Mama, we can beat him." I was surprised she wanted me along. My pace grew faster, until I had to break into a trot - and then I realized that I...I had to let go.
I was holding her back.
She turned her head, and asked why I let go - and I said, "don't worry! Just go, just go, honey! You can do it - I'll be behind you if you fall!" She smiled and took off. I'd swear I saw a glint in her eye.
Her brother still won the race. And she was happy when I caught up. She was so excited about what she'd done - how far she'd come in such a short time - so proud of herself. Exhileration was an understatement.
But now we had the bridge to tackle. A long wooden bridge, in good shape for the most part, but with some boards in need of repair, some nails that need to be banged in, and it winds over a creek and some wetlands, before descending back into the paved trail. She wasn't ready to do this alone.
We got over the bridge together, giggling at the immense sound of her roller blades over the weathered wood. She compared it to a wooden roller coaster - and said she couldn't wait to try it again, but alone next time.
At the bottom of the bridge, returning to the smooth pavement, she took my hand. She said, "you know, Mama, I don't need to hold your hand now. I just want to because I love you." I smiled, and held her hand tighter than she expected.
Soon, I sensed her mounting frustration at our speed. I let her go and said, "go on - go as fast as you can - just watch the acorns!" And she went. I watched her take off, accelerate and round one of the corners of the trail, past the old uprooted tree, which since her birth had almost all but disappeared back into the earth. And she was out of my sight.
She hollered back, "I'm doing it, Mama! I'm doing it! I'm really doing it! I'll meet you at home!"
"Okay!" I shouted back, choking back that inevitable lump in the throat that gets implanted when one becomes a parent. "I'll be there soon..."
When I finally caught up with her, she was beaming. She said, "you know what, Mama? I even fell. I fell pretty hard, but I got myself back up again. I didnt' need anybody to help me. I didn't even use a thing...I just did it myself. And look at me, I'm okay!"
"That's awesome, honey. I'm soooo proud of you!"
"I'm okay! I'm okay! I can't believe how far I came today!"
You have no idea, little one. You have no idea.
My daughter learned to skate on roller blades today. She's had crappy, cheap versions of them in the past, with unmanageable, flat wheels that are only good for about 2 minutes before they get too pocked to roll. Yes, I bought them for her, perhaps with the cloaked understanding that they would keep her slow, keep her close, and keep her from falling too often.
Then as young girls are wont to do, she asked for better skates. She said she wanted to move like the other kids on the street - winding in and out of driveways, using their wheeled freedom and exhilerating speed as a small escape from the trappings of flip flops or sneakers.
So I finally gave in this recent holiday season. I found the coolest pair I could for the budget I was willing to invest, and they are pretty cool, actually. Black with hot pink trim and some Ed Hardy-esque stylings on the sides. But the important thing was the wheels. Real wheels, capable of manuevering up and down, over and under, in and out of the obstacles of suburban developments.
She kept asking to use them, since Christmas, and I kept putting it off - explaining that she had to find her elbow and knee pads first in our garage (and if you've ever seen my garage, you know my plan was set to buy some substantial time). So finally today she dug them out.
And I, reluctantly, agreed to help her out.
She held on so tightly at first, I thought my arm was going to fall off. My daughter, for seven, is quite tall, and is the size of an average 10 year old, and now up on her skates is even bigger (thank goodness for my 70 inches of height, or I might feel a bit overwhelmed!). But there she went, more walking than skating, scraping the ground with the sides of the wheels, intent on not falling down, pulling harder and harder on my arm.
My son was on his bike, riding ahead, and returning often to check on our progress as he dutifully taunted his sister about her inability to keep up with him or even our small dog. She took it all in stride, and was dead set on getting this skill mastered.
A few wobbles here, a couple of whoopsies there - she admitted she was glad to have put on the pads that I insisted on. But she kept going. And her strides became longer. And her grip became looser.
She'd let go for a second, then grab on again desperately. Laughing all the way.
And her strides became longer, and her grip became looser. And she'd let go for longer.
Eventually, her brother had had enough and challenged her to a race of sorts, insisting he could lap us around the lake before she could reach the 300 feet to the stairs. Her head went down, her elbows up, like a roller derby girl and she accepted. But she grabbed my hand and said, "come on, Mama, we can beat him." I was surprised she wanted me along. My pace grew faster, until I had to break into a trot - and then I realized that I...I had to let go.
I was holding her back.
She turned her head, and asked why I let go - and I said, "don't worry! Just go, just go, honey! You can do it - I'll be behind you if you fall!" She smiled and took off. I'd swear I saw a glint in her eye.
Her brother still won the race. And she was happy when I caught up. She was so excited about what she'd done - how far she'd come in such a short time - so proud of herself. Exhileration was an understatement.
But now we had the bridge to tackle. A long wooden bridge, in good shape for the most part, but with some boards in need of repair, some nails that need to be banged in, and it winds over a creek and some wetlands, before descending back into the paved trail. She wasn't ready to do this alone.
We got over the bridge together, giggling at the immense sound of her roller blades over the weathered wood. She compared it to a wooden roller coaster - and said she couldn't wait to try it again, but alone next time.
At the bottom of the bridge, returning to the smooth pavement, she took my hand. She said, "you know, Mama, I don't need to hold your hand now. I just want to because I love you." I smiled, and held her hand tighter than she expected.
Soon, I sensed her mounting frustration at our speed. I let her go and said, "go on - go as fast as you can - just watch the acorns!" And she went. I watched her take off, accelerate and round one of the corners of the trail, past the old uprooted tree, which since her birth had almost all but disappeared back into the earth. And she was out of my sight.
She hollered back, "I'm doing it, Mama! I'm doing it! I'm really doing it! I'll meet you at home!"
"Okay!" I shouted back, choking back that inevitable lump in the throat that gets implanted when one becomes a parent. "I'll be there soon..."
When I finally caught up with her, she was beaming. She said, "you know what, Mama? I even fell. I fell pretty hard, but I got myself back up again. I didnt' need anybody to help me. I didn't even use a thing...I just did it myself. And look at me, I'm okay!"
"That's awesome, honey. I'm soooo proud of you!"
"I'm okay! I'm okay! I can't believe how far I came today!"
You have no idea, little one. You have no idea.
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