“10, 9, 8”
As Jason counts down
I trot up the concrete steps
I hope to find somewhere dark
Dark enough
So my shadow would be hidden
Down a blue hallway and to my right
A small set of stairs and a door
I sit on the cold ground of the landing
Voices echo in the rink
As skating coaches yell across the ice to their students
My mother being one of them
As I sit waiting I felt like I owned this rink
I knew all the hiding places
It even felt sacred
We would run and climb
Even go through doors
That we weren’t supposed to go through
It was freeing
The rink was like my little kingdom and home
I practically lived there
My mum’s reality was down on the ice
But mine was up here for now
Observing what one day would be my reality too
