Sunday morning, we took the car to the Geant (a grocery store) parking lot to go rollerblading. The sun was shining and in 30 minutes I had taken off one of my 3 layers of sweaters. We turned around and around the parking lot, sticking to the good asphalt. We skated to the livraison area, where a dog started to chase us but gave up halfway. Then, in another patch of good asphalt, I practiced making little jumps and skating backwards. Removed another layer of my 3 sweaters.
We left the parking lot and took to the sidewalks, which led us to a bright red bridge over the highway. It was a curved bridge and it was steep. I made it to the middle, the highest point, then froze. Julien went ahead, skating in a zigzag motion to cut down his speed, and motioned for me to follow. I held on to the metal bars and started walking sideways, afraid to skate down in fear of falling. Julien told me to try. I said I would fall. I held on to the bars, all the way to the foot of the bridge. I was embarrassed when I joined him finally, and couldn’t meet his eyes.
We went back to the car, where I had a little driving lesson, where I sat unnaturally on the driver’s seat; refusing to go faster, refusing to accelerate…
A few hours ago my mother called and updated me about the dogs (“They’re fine, all three of them…”) and random tidbits of home; Finally she asked me how my weekend was, and I told her that we went rollerblading and driving. “Oh!” she said, laughing. “You, on wheels, again? You’re a terror on wheels… Remember how you used to turn cartwheels while you had your skates on? You always almost gave me a heart attack…”
I let the topic die out and asked more questions about Zorro the dog. She needed little prompting and launched into dog stories, and I was relieved but didn’t really hear everything she was saying… I was stunned and disbelieving, thinking of how different I had become, how I was no longer the child who did not fear speed, who wasn’t scared of wheels on her feet, who loved the idea of going faster and faster.
