How About It
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And as much as I dont like winter, theres one thing that I despise even more: Gym class. And when the two are combined, you get a whole new kind of torture: Ice skating.
When I was little, I always thought that it would be great to learn to glide on ice. Initially, when I held my moms hand, it was. But when I had to learn to skate on my own, well, the fear of the unforgiving ice set in. If I didnt trust ice driving in a car, why in the world would I trust it wearing two flimsy skates?
But I tried anyway, in gym class, and it was hell. Then one day, as I sit on the bench and lace up my skates, preparing myself to tackle again the rinks icy fortress, I feel my confidence rising.
“Maybe this time,” I think, “Ill acquire the coordination and grace I need.” On the ice, though, this sudden burst of hope flies far away.
I grip the railing, my knuckles sore from the strain. Once again, Im going to spend my gym class in fear of the unpredictable nature of ice. All I can think is, “Why is no one else clinging to the side like me?”
Suddenly, I feel someones hands grab my waist and adrenaline rushes through me. Turning around to see who it is, I feel the surge again: Its my friend, a person Ive liked for longer than I can remember, and, too, the last person I expected to see. He drags me from the safety of the railing and I feel myself soaring across the ice, almost as if there is no ice at all, only a cloud. My heart races.
My tree looks a lot like me. It changes the way it looks through the seasons; so do I. In the autumn, my trees leaves turn from tropical green to fiery red. They never seem to go through an ugly, boring, brownish stage. Im kind of like that, too.
In the summertime, many other peoples skin gets blistered and peely or freckly or burnt. But my skin just kind of deepens into a truffle milk chocolate, and at the same time, my hair shines like a silvery star. Of course, the leaves fall off of my tree in the fall, and my skin grows paler in the wintertime. We both have our bright seasons.