One night at the outdoor rink
I mostly went skating at night. Sure I had some day time skates. They were fun, fine, whatever. I remember the nights best of all. The lights. The people. Mists of breath from every playful mouth. I loved our local park.
Greenwood Park in Toronto has two outdoor ice surfaces. One is a hockey rink. with boards, glass, benches and a roof. The other is a meandering twisting path that loops around and went back to the changing area with the washrooms.
One night I watched someone learning to skate.
He was a thirty year old man from a warm place.
His name was William.
William looked strained.
William was stiff. Struggling. A fish out of water.
A child laughed. A parent scolded.
William laughed, invited the mocking from the child.
Of course I look funny. I’m old and I don’ know how to do this.
I must look ridiculous to you.
Did he have wisdom beyond his age or was this merely worn down hubris?
William was: Ambitious. Brave. Playful
He called himself crazy.
He called himself foolish.
Most of all?
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