By Rev. Danielle Rogers
Last Friday night I stepped into rainbow sparkly roller skates with bright turquoise glitter shoelaces and glided into a dark room at the Gallatin Valley Fairgrounds illuminated by strobe lights, while the sounds of Abba and other 70’s jams blared in the background.
Lots of little feet on wobbly legs skated by me while parents tried to keep the smallest from falling. Meanwhile experienced adults flew by on skates with lighted wheels , exuding confidence and style.
I hadn’t put on Roller Skates since 1995. The last time I wore them was at my High School Graduation afterparty for Seniors. The dark room, filled with advanced confident adults and overzealous children made me nervous. I was more then nervous, I was terrified.
I skated recreationally as a child. I loved the freedom of gliding through my hometown of NYC, and the joy I felt. I was an experienced skater, confident, assured with no fear of falling. I received my first pair of fisher price skates at 3, and by ten had a nice pair of leather semi-professional skates. I skated every day for a whole summer in our building’s backyard, I wore them to the bodega corner store, and they substituted my usual tennis shoes that year. I wore them in so badly, I broke the brake on one of the skates and had it repaired.
All my previous experience escaped me, as I took a trepidatious step into the dark room and gathered my courage. Slowly, I took one step gliding to the right and then the left, trying to find a rhythm while keeping my core engaged. I made it around the room and tried for another lap. Again, gliding to the right, then releasing to my left foot, and little by little I remembered an emotion I hadn’t felt in thirty years. Childhood exhilaration. All the memories of skating rushed back, every part of my body remembered the old sensation of skating and the joy it brought me. It took me back to memories with my mom and the knee pads I wore as a toddler. I remembered being 11 and feeling independent at the ability to travel short distances on my skates by myself to run an errand. More importantly, I felt Joy! Real joy.
As I made my way to my husband who was watching from the side of the room, I decided to try stopping by breaking, a maneuver done by lifting up your foot and applying pressure on the hard peg on the front of the boot. My beautiful skates were brand new and I had forgotten the breaks needed to be broken in. They were vinyl, shiny, glittery plastic. As I braked, down I went. I landed on my hip and extended my elbow falling on my wrist. My phone dropped and the screen broke. Instant pain radiated into my hip as I lay stunned and kind of embarrassed. I quickly got up skated over to my husband and had to make a decision. Should I go home, ice my middle-aged ego and leave this sport for the young people, or should I stay, as another fun song by Olivia Newton John played loudly. I stayed for another two hours.
Later that night I was mad at myself for falling and wished I had stayed home as the realization of buying a new phone and a trip to Urgent Care waited for me in the morning, then I remembered the feeling of freedom and joy. For those moments it was blissful movement, swaying to fun, methodic, music and exuding childhood joy. I praise God for roller skates, and the joy it brings to the world. If you are wondering if I will go back, the answer is yes and I hope you will too. Find your old joy, live in it for awhile and praise God for the ability to find it.