MY RUSTY SKATES
I grew up in the Bronx in New York, with red brick buildings with stoops and fireescapes and beautiful wrought iron fences and johnny pumps. Your neighborhood was called your block. My block was a happy, friendly place where everyone knew each other. Sometimes people would place a cushion on their windowsills to lean out and watch all that went on below.
In the summertime, the older folk, men wearing fedoras, or chubby little ladies in their pretty housedresses, would set their chairs out on the sidewalk in little groups and chat together.There were so many kids that you probably could start a school.
It was a time when kids played outdoors alot, no matter if it were freezing cold or burning hot. We played ball and jacks and hopskotch and tag. We ran and jumped and skipped. But best of all...we rollerskated. We skated on gray concrete sidewalks with jaggedy cracks that "broke your mother's back". We even rollerskated IN THE HOUSE on the great linoleum floors, until we heard, "Didn't I tell you NO ROLLERSKATING IN THE HOUSE?!" But the very best place to rollerskate was the street, tarred smooth and black, wide and spacious, where you could make those long glides and be part of the wind. But, we weren't allowed to play in the street, even if it wasn't a street busy with lots of traffic.
More than anything, I wanted a pair of rollerskates. I don't remember how, but I saved up the money to buy myself a pair (probably from the money I saved from soda bottle deposits and my little business finding coins under the big freezer at Milly's grocery store--but that's a whole other story).
I took my $7.00 and went around the corner to Sam's Hardware Store to make my wish come true. Sam handed me the shoebox with my new rollerskates. They were silver and shiny and heavy with stiff brown leather straps that buckled around your ankle. Rollerskates came with a wonderful, magic weird-looking KEY! AT LAST I HAD ROLLERSKATES!!! I WAS ONE HAPPY KID ON MY BLOCK. ...to be continued
At last I had my rollerskates and their key. That key was very important. It was used to lengthen or shorten your skates, and to attach them to the soles of your shoes. So, I put my key on a string and wore it around my neck, so it would always be available.
Rollerskating became my most wonderful new adventure. I remember skating with my friends, and feeling like I owned the world. There was nothing better, nothing could make me happier. We skated everywhere. On the sidewalks making the harsh grinding sound that was music to my ears, and on the street, ten kids across in our exciting speedskating races.
I was a good skater. I'm sure I did, but I don't remember ever falling down. I was fast, too. Once, skating with my friends on another block, a white dog came barking out of nowhere chasing after me. That was my fastest skating ever!
Then came the day I skated in the street. I was near a big double-parked truck. I was not in any danger-- to me...but mom was at the window, and saw me on my skates... in the street... next to that truck. I remember her screaming, "Gracie!".
I believe my skates were taken away that day. Nevermore to be seen, until one gray day. I was leaning out the window overlooking our pretty backyard, when I suddenly noticed something hanging from a crevice beneath the gray stony windowsill. It was a brown leather strap. I recognized it, as if it were a long lost friend. It was. Placing my hand by the strap, I felt around until I wriggled my trapped friend from its hiding place. Yes! My rollerskates were placed, lodged and hidden in the small space beneath the windowsill. For how long?...I have no idea.
I only know, upon examining them, that the wheels were terribly rusty from rain and snow of a New York winter. Even if I were allowed to use them again, my rollerskates were no good to me anymore. They were dead.
I have no clear memories of what happened next. I believe I learned that my mother hid them there. I can imagine how deeply sad I was.
But, the important part of this story is that I learned something about my mother's powerful love for me. My mother had known a little boy who was killed by a car while sitting on a curb adjusting his rollerskate. When my mother saw me on rollerskates, in the street, by a truck...her fear took over. She had to hide those skates. Whether or not it was the right or best decision, as a mother I totally understand her actions. As mothers, we can only do our best with love. I lost my rollerskates, because my mom was afraid to lose me. I love you, mom.
MY BEAUTIFUL MOTHER, AMELIA APREA
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