I went skating by myself last night. I needed it. Yet at the same time I felt discouraged, lonely, and nostalgic. I like feeling stuff. And I loved it. The cold wind in my face. I forgot the feeling of spinning on skates. The rush of pushing yourself across the surface with your own power. If I closed my eyes, or squinted at least, I could pretend I was on a pond back home. I wanted a stick, and a puck, and an opposing team. I revelled in being on my own and then desperately wanted my family and friends.
I lay down in the snow. And watched the tiny needle flakes flying past the flood lights about my head. It was time to go home. Singing the whole way to my mp3. Just because that's what I wanted to do.