Finding our Balance: Fragile and Vulnerable Ice-Skating

I have tried to ice-skate only once in my life. I was 21 years old and my friends and I gathered our thickest guts to enter the Rockefeller Ice Rink in New York, circa 80's. While some of them glided on with some semblance of grace, I couldn't find my balance and ended up embracing the railings of the rink for dear life. It was not such a good experience at all, and yet ice-skating was so exciting to me when they aired Skating with the Stars.

Flash forward to 2008. My family and I are at the foot of Yosemite's granite monolith. Here lies a scenic skating rink, surrounded by thin streams of water, lined with snow. There was a bonfire by the wayside for frozen hands and feet.

All my kids rushed to rent their own ice-skates and zoomed into the ice--also for the first time for my eldest and youngest. The middle kids were privileged to have taken a few skating lessons in SM Megamall in Manila.



Watching from the side of the rink, I was invited by the giant monolith to try again, not to waste this moment at the sidelines, taking pictures. I was worried that osteoporosis at midlife would break a hipbone should I fall, but who turns down a giant granite monolith with a skating rink at his foot?

I decided to ice-skate for the second time in my life. I was tentative on my ice skates, waiting for someone to guide me in. Though I had the monolith on my side, the ice was way slippery at the mouth of the rink--very uninviting. My eldest son was making his way awkwardly to me. I realized he had circled the ring a few times and found a fragile balance. My youngest, (she's 3), was calling on to me, holding on to her dad, "Look at me, mom!" as she took her own her baby steps on ice. I was so very proud of her!

My husband took me into the rink. I held on to his arm with a death grip, thinking of NOT falling on my hips, whatever happens. My husband was weary of my weight and left me by the curb to catch his strength.

My eldest son came over and taught me how to at least stand up by myself--turning the ankles in and bending the knees, slightly leaning forward. Learning how to at least stand up kept me going. As a ballet dancer in my teens, my hidden dreams of grace on ice and those shimmering outfits strengthened me. (Did you know Vera Wang was a varsity skater and still skates to unwind?)

My son came back for me to pry me away from the wall. As I held on to his arm, I remember how all our time flew to this moment. My son--the one I taught to stand, walk, read, and write, ride a bike, type on the computer, drive his first stick-shift car, write an essay, be considerate of others--is now teaching me how to ice-skate, as if my life depended on him.

After 2 rounds (spent mostly hugging the wooden rails), I was exhilarated. But coming out of my Serendipity (the movie) fantasies, I was tired. My other kids circled me by while cheering me on and showing off at the same time. While the kids continued on, I sat on a bench to stretch my cramping ankles and creaky joints, and thanked God that I my hips are intact!

It was night when I looked up at the granite monolith. The bonfire wrapped the place in magical gold, with flakes of fire flying in the air. I was so glad to try ice skating again in this majestic setting. But the magic was skating with my kids. To see my eldest, poised yet vulnerable, on the brink of manhood, I realized my parenting days with him are almost over the way that I know it. I waved to the others as they passed me by, finding their own place in the ice. One day, they too, will be poised for their own adventures, many of them, without me. My daring and darling 3-year old, she fell many times, but got up and shook the slush off her behind, and carried on. Ah, I have more parenting years with her ahead--perhaps a new style of parenting, but that's a pleasure I look forward to.

I realized that I have ice-skated in 2 of the most magical places on Earth--Rockefeller Center and Yosemite's Curry Park . How lucky can one person be? But then sometimes, a great place pales in comparison to what my whole family gained. Yosemite, in all its grandeur, served only as a backdrop for wonderful moments on the ice, truly with my family, not just by the sidelines. For in the travels of our life as a family, the journey is as important as the destination. In fact, we are the ones that give meaning to the destination.

Take your vacations with meaning.