The Daily Spur 09.03.2026

Skate

Every winter meant skates.

The lake would freeze,
and we would wait—
watching, testing, listening
for the ice to become safe.

Every birthday or Christmas
brought a new pair,
always a little bigger
than the last.

Hockey,
ice dance,
speed skating—
I tried them all.

From November
until late February
the lake was our world.

Cold air,
sharp blades,
the sound of steel
singing across the ice.

Every winter
until I was fifteen.

Then one year
the ice was no longer safe.

The winter after that
I moved away from home.

Since then
I have only skated a few times—
once or twice
when my oldest child was small.

But sometimes
when winter arrives,
I still hear it—

that clean sound
of blades on frozen water.

— Maggie
The Afterlove Voice 💫