I heard the ice rink at Lloyd Center Mall in Portland, Oregon, is gone, daddy, gone. Then I heard (from my auntie, who would know) that it’s there, still, just smaller. Blech. It was already too small, man.

Loved skating there as a kid, holding hands with my boyfriend on Friday nights (“Couples’ sk8!”) when a bunch of us from grade school went weekly; with my husband, years later; watching from the sidelines, holding my breath and praying as my daughter took lessons, then private lessons, then competed… Awww…

It’s stressful, competing, and not just for the competitors, dude. I alternated between praying and trying not to puke, seriously. The other moms were the same. There was one sane mama, thankfully, who used to hiss, “C’mon you guys, for real? Just smile. Wave and smile.” Ha. Yeah, it’s funny now. I didn’t cry when we abandoned competing, started skating just for fun, and no longer had the hardcore Russian skating coach.

I liked her a lot, but still.

You know what’s boring AF? Other people’s dreams. They can be so interesting when you’re inside one, yeah? But hearing about them is usually a yawnfest. So this is for me, more than you. Memory bank: my blog.

I haven’t skated in a few years — there’s only one rink near the new place, and it’s about an hour away. We had Lloyd Center in Portland, and we used to hit the rinks in Vancouver, Wash., Valley Ice in Beaverton, and the rink in Sherwood, too, when we lived out that way. We skated in Banff one time, that was fantastic. Our son was tiny and had his rockin’ little hockey skates. He sk8ed before he could walk. #truth Our daughter flew around showing all her tricks. She was fun to watch.

But last night… i had a dream my friends and I were on some Magic Bus (“too much/Magic Bus… i want it i want it i want it/u can’t *have it*…”) and we were all heading to the rink. I had some cool white sk8ing dress, all fluff and short skirt, so I put on my tights and dress with a sweatshirt over.

Cuz it’s cold at the rink.

Laced up my skates, couldn’t find the blade guards, didn’t matter cuz it was a dream, good to go. I was thinking of my daughter’s friend at the rink, I think, who we once overheard telling another little chicky about the Olympics.

“Someday we might compete.”

“What are the Olympics?”

“It’s when you get the ice… all to yourself,” she answered, and they both shivered. Because that is the ultimate dream. Forget the medals. You get the whole Olympic-size rink all to your own sweet self.

In this dream I had the ice mostly to myself, it was pretty awesome. There were probably pretzels, cookies, peppermint Schnapps and hot cocoa, who knows. Then (after a long while, and yes, my sk8ing skills are markedly better in my dream state than they are in real life), a *ton* of people showed up, and this old guy and I said, WTF where did they all come from? PANDEMIC LET’S GET OUT OF HERE.

And we split. But I had sk8ed for a long time and it was all good, man. It was a beautiful dream. My hippie friends showed up and they probably sk8ed too, then off we went on our next adventure.

Another favorite memory of Lloyd Ice, speaking of old guys — we were doing a family sk8 one Saturday, this old guy had on his hockey sk8s and was zooming so fast (but carefully!) dodging around everyone. As he was flying by one of the gates, a little toddler came stumbling onto the ice. Without pausing, he scooped her up, flew to the next gate, deposited her on the mat and sk8ed off. It was kinda awesome.

All for now, ciao, please be safe, even if you’re not sk8ing; wear your masks, even if you’ve been vaccinated; stop and smell the flowers along the way; don’t forget to write when you find work and later, gator.

WM