Chop, chop, glide.

You trust the thin metal blade under your foot.

Chop, chop, glide.

It doesn’t cut through the ice, but it could cut through your hand.

Chop, chop, glide.

Just scratching the surface of the ice steady your balance, but move with grace.

Chop, chop, glide.

No one in particular is looking at you, but you can’t help but feel there’s a spotlight on you.

Chop, chop, glide.

You are not falling, but you are also in no position to have 1 foot off the ice any longer than it needs to be.

Chop, chop, glide.

You set yourself in motion you can feel the cold air rise off the frozen surface gently push against your face and blow through your hair.

Chop, chop, glide.

Maybe if you started doing this when you were younger, you could’ve been really good by now instead of feeling the imposter syndrome that comes with trying new things later in life.

Chop, chop, glide.

You know that’s not a good way to reflect on life. This should have could have don’t exist right now. Right now you are pushing forward. Skating on ice gliding through life at least at the moment.

Chop, chop, glide.