Sunday, November 30, 2008

The Lost Ice Skates

Her red dress was tattered, faded and torn. It was trimmed with fur on the hem and sleeves as any proud ice-skater would wear. Her scarf is faded gold and frayed and awkwardly tied around her tiny neck. Her blond hair was matted to her head with strands darting this way and that. Her deeply set blue eyes remained shut except when her legs moved her eyes blinked in some odd unison. Her legs were scarred and cracked, brittle and tired. Her feet were bare. They once were bound by lovely white ice skates covering thick warm red socks. Now, they were gone, the socks - the skates, gone. She had been abandoned years ago. She wasn't well liked, actually she wasn't wanted at all. She was left to her solitary confinement in a box for half a century, decaying, darkening, fading and forgotten. Her purpose as a gift was never appreciated. Her delicate frame and lovely attire were of little consequence. She was pushed aside for toy guns, monopoly, a frog collection, a blue bike, a softball glove, bat and ball, and tree forts. She was dead. There was no grieving or longing or even memories of her 'place', she had none except to be hidden away and forgotten in a box, a pink and white striped box.
She was found, quite by accident, last week, still laying in her pink and white striped box. She was held for the first time in fifty years. She waited a very, very long time to be touched. She was in a bigger box, in a storage area of the garage. Her grandmother found her, all alone and waiting, still. Her grandmother gently took her out of her dark cold cave and held her close to her chest, warming her and remembering her from years ago. She carefully brought her upstairs in to the light. Her eyes still blinked in that odd unison when her brittle legs moved. Her torn red skating dress was still in tact. Her matted blond hair, still pretty in it's own unique way. Her feet, still bare.
She was placed in a lovely gift bag wrapped in the whitest tissue paper for her journey back to me. I was being given another chance and so was she. I opened the bag oh so carefully and I remembered her easily. I remembered how I didn't want her and I recalled putting her in that pink and white striped box and leaving her alone. I have no memory of taking her ice skates off - that remains a mystery. I picked her up and held her close. I moved her legs and watched her eyes blink in that odd unison. Her deep set blue eyes still had some sparkle. I think she has forgiven me. She is now sitting proudly on a center branch of "Hope" - the tree. She is a hopeful reminder that all is not lost and forgotten even after fifty years. That new life and meaning CAN be realized long after a gift given is tossed aside. She has a 'place' now, a purpose and she doesn't need her ice skates to fulfill this awakening of spirit.
Who knew that when I left her all those years ago that my life would be as it is now and that she would be found and sit proudly on a tree named 'Hope". There is so much irony in this that I could go on and on. Instead, I hope that you will take from this story what you will, as it may apply to your life and things or people you may have long since put in a box in the dark.



Comrade Kevin said...

Do you have a picture? I could visualize it so much better then.

Gail said...

Hi Kevin-\

I wish I knew how to take a photo and then put it on here. I am quite limited in that.
Thanks SO much though for your interest.

How are you Kev?


Naj said...

you're one good writer Gail!