An Intoxicating Winter Skate

I recently experienced a form of intoxication with my youngest two, ice skating beside train tracks.  Our trip to the rink was heavy with bickering.  The oldest kids ditched the whole thing to warm themselves in the library across the street.  Their dad drew the short stick and joined them.  

After a long search for skates that fit and lacing them with frozen fingers, June and John and I were transported.  Instantly, we entered some psychedelic world of slow movement, misplaced music, spinning, sliding, holding hands, bumping, clinging, gazing, falling, lifting, floating.  And when I thought my senses could absorb no more, a huge train billowed by, hovering feet away from our own oval tracks.  It was Raoul Dahl meets the Polar Express.

All we could do was stop and stare.  And then tell the others all about it over hot chocolate.