Strength

Ice looks fragile but it's strong.

He learned that the first time he stepped onto that frozen surface - jagged and weather-beaten but beautiful. He took two cautious steps, the breeze already teasing at the strands of hair not covered by his hat. His face rosy with cold. He took another step, a little bolder this time. Another.

The fall was inevitable - he knows that now - but he didn't know it then, and it wouldn't have mattered if he did. He believed the ice was strong enough to support him, the fall proved it.

He danced his first waltz on that uneven surface, twirling and bowing to an imaginary partner who had matched him on every other adventure and willingly came along on this one. When his partner needed a rest he danced on the ice alone. It felt a little like flying.

He was a bird for a while, then, skimming across the frozen surface, arms outstretched and body extended as he gathered speed.

Sometimes the falls hurt, but never enough to stop him from trying to fly.

The jagged icy surface melted far too soon, but the ice had already won his trust.

The ice rink was so different - as smooth and hard as glass but without the wild freedom and the wind. In their place was flight - dizzying, breathtaking jumps - and the return to the surface that could hold him up and propel him along as if he weighed almost nothing.

His life changed quickly after that - gone were junk food and leisure time with friends - sacrifices that he gladly made, but which sometimes pained him anyway.

Also gone was a fragment of his heart, entrusted to the strong, beautiful ice - not a sacrifice but a gift that he was glad to give.

Only years later did he wonder if that missing piece of his heart was what had finally broken his first serious relationship. He'd never left the ice, but it was colder and harder to him after that - keeping him earthbound and leaving marks that lingered long after he'd picked himself up off that frozen surface.

Flight returned eventually, a hard-fought freedom rather than a gift, and he felt uncertainty gnawing at the edges of his resolve. It took a devastating fall and many helpless tears before they a truce was reached.

It was a little easier after that, even if he never flew quite the same way again. He found new ways to move, and the ice supported him as he went.

He never quite achieved what he'd dreamed of for so long, but along the way he found more than he'd ever expected.

The night he retired his childhood dream, he went to the ice alone, dressed simply - like he had been all those years ago. He held his arms out wide, stretched his body forward, and tried to fly.

When the fall came, he let himself go, not resisting as he crashed onto the surface.

He moved slowly, curling in on himself before shifting onto his knees. Head bowed, he placed his gloved hands on the ice and allowed himself to cry.

When he rose, the tears were already cooling, soon to become part of the ice. By morning they'd both be stronger.


::end::
 

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