Fly.

By corvidae on Skatehive

Scrape scrape. Grind. Crunch. Slisk. Swish. Fly. Weave between couples. Wind around parents. Drag to a stop for the tiny creature with the big grin pushing the penguin skate helper across and against the flow of traffic with no regard for anything other than the sheer joy of toddling over the snowy ice in the middle of LLoyd Center Mall. I feel you, kid. Hip is sticky on the right side so practice practice push into those hockey stops until the muscle memory comes back. It's coming back. It's all coming back. Speed up to escape the wheeler barreling down from behind, hunched over, heaving, arms swinging. Half skip fifty times or more away from the kid whose greatest talent on the ice is falling down. Wobble in the wake of the tween boys chasing each other across the rink, one in hockey skates, the other in figure. Pick up speed. Stop. Turn around and go backwards. Stop. Go forward. Stop. Backward. Stop. Crossover left. Crossover right. Forward. Backward. Forward. Backward. Stop. Stop.