Zoe’s Christmas-Light Turn

I told Dylan I could do a skating turn. Then I looked up at the Christmas lights, and my skates went wibble-wobble.

My cousin Dylan laughed, but not in a mean way. “Those lights are pretty distracting,” he said.

They were. Bright strings looped around the rink fence, and a tall tree in the town square glowed gold and green. The lights made tiny stars on the ice. Music floated from a speaker near the hot chocolate stand, where grown-ups stamped their boots and waved to neighbors.

“I’ve been practicing my turn all week,” I said. “I want to show you.”

Dylan held the fence while I pushed away from it. My red mittens were tucked into the pocket of my coat. I was wearing blue gloves, so the mittens made a little red bump near my hip.

I skated forward, bent my knees, and started to turn. Just then, I spotted a green light shining above the fence.

Up went my chin. Out went my arms. My skates wobbled apart, and I grabbed the fence with both hands.

“Whew,” I said. “Almost.”

“Almost is a good start,” Dylan said. He glided beside me, holding the fence with one hand. “Want to try again?”

I pushed off before I had time to think. This time I tried to turn faster. My skates made a scratchy swish, and my coat swung around me. I looked up to see the lights again.

Wibble. Wobble. I had to catch the fence once more.

My cheeks felt warm under my hat. The lights were still lovely, but now they seemed to be watching me.

“I can do it,” I said, though my voice sounded smaller than before.

Dylan gave my shoulder a gentle bump. “Let’s take a breath first.”

We stood by the fence and watched a little boy glide past with his dad. I took a slow breath in, then let it out. My skates stopped squeaking. My hands loosened around the rail.

I still wanted to show Dylan my turn. I just wasn’t sure how to make my wobbly feet listen.

“Maybe we should go slowly,” Dylan said. “You don’t have to spin fast.”

I nodded, but my tummy still felt jumpy. I stepped away from the fence and tried again. I bent my knees, pushed gently, and began to turn. Then I remembered the lights and felt my shoulders creep up toward my ears.

My skates wobbled. I stopped with one hand on the fence.

“I keep looking up,” I sighed. “And when I try again right away, I get tighter and tighter.”

Dylan watched me for a moment. Then he pointed at my coat pocket. “Your red mittens are dancing.”

I looked down. The ends of the mittens peeked out of the pocket. As I shifted my weight, they swung in a small circle beside me.

“They’re showing how your turn moves,” Dylan said. “Maybe you can watch them instead of the lights.”

I turned my head to see the mitten ends sway around. They made a little red loop, then settled against my coat.

“That’s a good idea,” I said. My shoulders came down. My tummy felt less jumpy. “I can follow the mittens.”

Dylan stayed close by the fence. I placed my feet on the ice and bent my knees. This time I moved slowly. I watched the red mittens swing as my body turned. I kept my eyes on their little circle and let my skates glide beneath me.

One careful push. A slow turn. A soft swish.

For a moment, the lights slipped out of sight. I saw my mittens swing past my coat button, then come around again. I kept turning until I faced Dylan.

“I did it!” I said.

“You did!” Dylan clapped, still holding the fence. I laughed, and my skates made a happy little scrape as I came to a stop.

I had turned all the way around. I had done it slowly, without rushing, and my feet had stayed under me.

The lights were still shining overhead. This time, I didn’t need to look up at them to know they were there. I could see their sparkle reflected on the ice, while my red mittens rested quietly against my coat.

“Want to skate an easy lap?” Dylan asked.

“Absolutely,” I said.

Dylan pushed away from the fence, and I followed. We started with small, easy glides, side by side. His skates whispered over the ice. Mine made a soft shush, then another.

We passed the town tree, where golden lights curled around the branches. A little star at the top seemed to wink when we went by. I smiled at it, but I kept my shoulders loose and my eyes ahead.

At the far side of the rink, Dylan held out his hand. I took it, and we rounded the corner together. We didn’t hurry. We didn’t practice turns. We simply glided beneath the lights, past the fence and the cheerful faces watching from the square.

When we came around to the beginning again, I felt proud and peaceful. My turn had been small and slow, but it was mine. I had found a way to keep my balance by noticing something close to me instead of trying to watch everything at once.

“Your mittens were good helpers,” Dylan said.

“They can have a rest now,” I said. I tucked them farther into my pocket so they wouldn’t swing out. Then I zipped my coat up to my chin.

A soft tune played across the square. The rink lights made a bright ring around us, and the shop windows along the street shone warmly. People were talking, sipping cocoa, and taking their time on the ice.

Dylan and I made one more easy lap. We waved to the boy and his dad as they passed, then coasted slowly to the fence. My legs felt pleasantly tired, like they had done a good day’s work.

“Next time, I’ll show you the turn again,” I said.

“I’ll be ready,” Dylan answered.

We stepped off the ice and sat together on a bench while our grown-ups gathered our things. I watched the lights shimmer on the rink. They looked just as lovely as before, only now they seemed calm and friendly.

The red mittens stayed tucked safely in my pocket. Dylan’s shoulder rested against mine, and the music drifted softly through the square as we headed home beneath the Christmas lights.