Beyond the Point
I am crying my heart out, clenching the border of Frog Pond, the skating rink in the Central Park of Boston. Bronze frogs with frozen glee casted on their metal faces have no compassion to me; they've seen it all many times. The cold, icy wind blows into my face and tangles my hair, pulling it out in all directions. I cannot force myself to leave the board. If anyone would have shown me a picture of myself in five year later on the same spot, I would have thought they are making fun of me.
My confidence grew with every season, as well as love for skating. Learning by myself is my style, so I mastered some basic essentials on my own. At Plymouth State University skating arena, a young woman observed my awkward attempts at imitating toe loops, which often ended up with me flopping onto the ice, and showed me how to succeed in my endeavors. I tried her way, and a thrill of victory was my reward.