11 May 2011
3 regret in the city
i had lunch with a friend of my mum's awhile back. she was talking about the quirkiness of a particularly quirky nephew when i alluded to the barnyard of all my own quirks.
she asked why i thought i was quirky, as though this was a notion open to debate. she seemed genuinely surprised and her surprise, it surprised me.
and so, because it has somehow become the defining story of young oline's young life, i told her the story of mimed figure skating on carpet in socked feet.
you know this story. if you don't, there's a version of it buried in HERE, but, in brief, all you need to know is that i was a romantically inclined only child who sustained lasting injuries as a result of the sheer awesomeness of the 1992 winter olympic games.
ie. broken bones from mimed figure skating on carpet in socked feet.
so i'm telling my mum's friend this story when out of absolutely nowhere i remember a detail i'd forgotten up to then.
though my routines choreographed to michael bolton "said i loved you, but i lied" brought tears to many an imagined eye, i never once won the gold medal.
i was alone in my bedroom miming triple lutzes, but i gave myself the silver instead.
i'm writing this now because last night in bible study- where they love this story- i was asked to, once again, mime figure skating in socked feet.
and i demurred.
and i wish i hadn't.
because i should've skated.
the field of socked feet figure skating mimes is terribly small. it is a dying art and, when it comes down to it, i am likely deserving of its many gold medals. but that isn't why i should've skated.
i should've skated because of all the things we must be able to do on demand in life, these are the two most important: being able to laugh and willing to pretend.