Frozen Memories

I pull the buds from my ears, and they ring against the silent snow fall. My father always described this place as full of life. Green grass as far as the eye could see, beautifully trimmed trees for endless shade, and the large shimmering pond that was so clean and clear you could see your reflection. But this… this is a desert of snow. A blinding white that makes me want to close my eyes just to escape its void. Large, dark, leafless trees that look like they just stepped right out of a horror movie. And the pond, frozen over and littered with patches of sullied snow. The only sign of civilization is the single bench set beside the frozen pond.

His steps crunch as he walks ahead, picnic basket in hand. I don’t want to go through with it anymore. I want to leave and go back to my imagination of this place and escape the reality of it all. But I don’t have the guts to tell him. It took over ten years to convince him to bring me here, what kind of daughter would I be if I were to back out now.

I walk slowly beside his steps that gradually fill with snow to erase that we were even here. My shoes fill with water as the snow melts around the thick fabric. Being from Arizona – we were in no way prepared for this kind of weather. Even my jacket can barely keep up with the cold.

My dad already has the blanket laid out and is digging through the basket. His body is rigid as he sits on his knees. I can already see the snow melting into his pants as it seeps through the blanket.

This isn’t a good idea. We should leave.

I can only think my objections, too scared of hurting him more than I already have by making him come here.

He clears his throat, keeping his eyes down like he has been this entire trip. “Do you want to eat now, or do you want to wait a bit?”

The sound of his trembling voice traps my answer in the ball building in my throat. I swallow, but it does nothing to ease the dread slowly creeping through me. I lower to my knees beside him and hold out my hand. He gently nods and hands me a juice. I silently fumble with it as I struggle to stick the flimsy plastic straw into the small aluminum hole.

Silence.

Neither of us know what to say, now that we’re here. I had so many questions prepared for this very moment.

Where was she standing when you first saw her?

What tree did you sit under together on your first date?

Where did you propose?

Where did you say I do?

Where did you have your first dance?

But the thought of asking anything makes my stomach turn.

I stare into the frozen wasteland, longing for something to break this silence. I flinch at the sound of my juice box slurping as I finish it. I set it beside me without a word, keeping my eyes away from my dad, terrified of making eye contact.

That’s when I see her. A woman skating across the frozen pond. The distant scrap of her skates cutting into the ice is piercing against the silence. She spins and glides so smoothly, it’s as though she’s not actually touching the ice and is simply hovering over it. She passes the bench, skating backwards. There are two jackets folded neatly beside each other on the bench, as well as two sets of ice-skates. Probably for her family for whenever the get here. I bet they’ll probably skate just as beautifully.

“This was your mothers favorite place.” He clears his throat.

“I know.” I say. “You’ve told me.”

That’s all you’ve ever told me.

He sniffles softly and I have to turn further from him to keep from crying. I focus on the woman, needing to distance myself from the emotions rising from my soul. Emotions I’ve kept bottled up since the instant I understood my family was broken and missing something – someone.

“I should’ve brought you here a long time ago.” He mumbles. “It was selfish of me to keep you from here.”

“It’s fine.” I say, my voice starting to tremble.

In truth, it’s not fine, but I don’t dare say it aloud. It’s not fine that he’s kept this part of my life from me for so long. It’s not fine that I’ve only been able to hear about my mother from other family, rather than her other half. It’s not fine that this place is how he chose to personify my image of my own mother.

“She always talked about bringing you here, when she was pregnant.”

I don’t know how to respond, and we’re lost in the silence once again. The only sound being the scrap of the ice from the distant silent ice-dancer. Still alone. No family to join her.

He clears is throat once again, and points across the frozen water. “It was” ahem “It was right over there that I first saw her.”

My blood runs cold as I stare intently at the empty space. I half expect to see her standing there, but there’s only the lonely skater gracefully spinning in place.

“There were so many people here that day, but I only saw her. And I knew that if I didn’t talk to her I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

He shifts his point, telling me different stories about what they did here together. Things I’ll never experience the way he got to. I tighten the lid on my bottled emotions. It’s better I keep them buried, rather than feel the bitter pain I know resides within me.

“And it was right here where we were married. Right under this tree.”

I instinctively wrap my arms around myself to physically hold myself together.

“It rained that day. But your mother refused to change locations. Nothing was going to stop her from marrying me.” His voice gains power. “You’re a lot like her in that way. You never let anything stop you from getting what you want. Once you have your heart set on something, you won’t give up until you get it.”

“What else?” I whisper.

“Well…”

He continues with stories that branch off to memories that extend beyond this frozen pond. Silent tears burn down my cheeks to make room for all this new information that should’ve been shared with me years ago.

As the stories and my tears dry up, we’re eventually back in the car. I stare out the back window, shivering as the cold is pulled from my body by the car heater. The woman still dances alone across the ice, her family never showing up to join her.

“I almost forgot,” he says over the sound of blasting air. “She was also a pretty decent ice skater.”