White

 White is the color of the skate rink. My father and I take the tram and we go there once or twice a week for figure skating lessons. I feel cold and clumsy and I skate carefully in the beginning as my dad is watching - from the sides. He does not know how to skate but he will try anything. And he wants me to try. I discover the joy of moving fast, almost effortlessly. I am still clumsy probably but I have figured out most of the tricky balance moves I was supposed to learn, and I like skating backwards. Mostly I like moving perpendicular to the long dimension from wall to wall , to use all the space that our team is allowed to use. We are many teams, and the whole rink space only opens wide to all of us at the end of the lessons. We swarm in a big circle, around the rink. The hockey kids skate faster and one of them always comes close, too close at some point, touching my skates as he passes ahead. I am afraid of falling and think that if I fall I should keep my hands under me, or the next hockey kid, or maybe even one from my team will chop off bits of my fingers. Although I am scared when they pass like that, I have never fallen because of them. But then one of them falls in a corner, and the next one on top oh him, and slowly a big pile of the kids forms. I fall too and it is a joyful experience. The teachers break the pile but now we know the game. And it is bound to happen again. They are not the enemies these kids. We are fancy, they are fun. Dad waits for me as we get sent off the rink, and he takes my boots off. He always tightens or loosens them for me because I am not strong enough yet, or my fingers freeze too quickly. He warms my toes, and they are so cold, that his well intended massage is painful. I occasionally get a treat of warm tea with lemon. We leave the gleaming skating rink behind and head home into the tram and into the night. I am happy. I should have asked him if he was also cold. He never complained. The occasional snow adds a white blanket over our mistakes, but lets joy shine through, in a white light. We have done this.

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