Stary nights

For little feet it was a long driveway. Our house sat back from the street atop a little hill which gave the driveway an incline not conducive to walking on skates. But when winter came, with a large pond beside our house, large floodlights put in by the town, and a mirror smooth surface to skate on, we couldn't get out fast enough. There was a type of ritual we had to go through. We put on an extra pair of socks, of course they never matched. We stuffed our feet into our skates, tied the laces real tight, and put on sweaters and jackets and scarves, mittens and hats. As anxious to get out skaters it was a tedious exercise. The driveway was a challenge in balance, as we gingerly pointed the toes of our skates into the ruts so we wouldn't fall before our glorious destination. Then there at the bottom of the treacherous trek was our beloved pond, beckoning us with it's smooth surface and assortment of neighbors and children swirling about. What joy filled our hearts in anticipation of ice skating. As for me, probably the least courageous of the family, I started off in long glides, and mini twirls. I would look up to a sky studded with crystal stars. I would feel the wind rushing about my face, and the contentment of a warm, wrapped up body. The boys would form a chain and yell for me to join. I had to work up courage. I also knew the last one on the chain was the whip and when the chain turned that chosen one would get the biggest, widest spin. Not for the weak of heart I admit.The night would go on with the skates gliding over the ice, making turns and speeding up and slowing down, and avoiding other skaters, and seeing the colorful scarves blowing in the wind. Eventually a kind and loving neighbor named Bill would start a bonfire with the help of my able bodied brothers. The roaring red fire at the edge of pond would add a dramatic contrast to the night sky. We would skate up to it to warm our hands and listen to it's crackle which sounded more like a cackle. Eventually the night would pass and the the lights would go out. We had to collect ourselves and make the long trek up the driveway. By then we couldn't feel our feet or our hands and the cold seem suddenly to hug us tightly. The windows on our house were all steamed up and as we entered we could hear the hissing of the old gray radiators. What a comforting sound that was. Off came the socks, and the wet mittens, and the scarves. As we covered the radiators with our winter gear there would be a burst of sound as the wet clothes sizzled.  We could not feel our feet at that point and our hands were pretty numb. We gathered around the fireplace and willed the circulation back into our bodies as our eyes became heavy and sleepy. Under the blanket of night, snuggled in our beds, we dreamed of the world beneath our feet, and stars that were close enough to touch. We dreamed the dreams of innocent youth.