Chapter 8... Every Week

It is 3:08 in the afternoon. Class is out. Ice is at 4:00. Graeme is waiting patiently outside the school for his grandma to pick him up and drive him to the arena. It is not cold, but the winter is coming so it is starting to get dark early. Graeme hops into the front seat of his grandma's car and she folds his chair into the back as the trunk was full with his hockey gear. 

It is a 5-minute drive to the rink and during that time Graeme thinks about what he is going to practice on the ice. He is excited about skating. 

"Goodbye Graeme, your mom will be here when she's finished work." As grandma drives off to pick up Graeme's sisters, he hauls his gear through the doors of the arena. There isn't anybody around. The lights are off and only a few spot lights shine onto the ice surface. Graeme moves past the posters of great hockey players, who grew up playing in that same arena. Down the ramp he picks up speed and heads towards the change room. Graeme drops his sled by the bench and heaves his hockey bag on to the ground in the change room.  

There he changes out of his clothes and into his hockey gear. First, some warm pants to go under his pads. then his shoulder and elbow pads followed by his sweater and helmet. Graeme grabs his gloves and sticks, and heads out of the door back towards the bench.

Nobody was there. No arena employees or other skaters, no fans or family. Only the zamboni was there to watch Graeme as he pushed himself onto the ice. It was quiet as the ice crunched under Graeme's skates. He thrusts himself forward with a swift push on his sticks and let himself glide the full length of the rink. Graeme grabbed a puck and practiced stick handling. Forehand to backhand then right hand to left hand. Graeme felt the weight of the puck and quickly became more confident with it. In a quick motion Graeme shot the puck at the net, missing the top corner and causing a loud bang as the puck hit the glass behind. 

For an hour Graeme continued to push himself to his limit on the ice. He would sprint as fast as he can or practice his agility between dots often picking up picks stick handle with on the ice. 

Eventually, Graeme's moms showed up to take him home. He was not ready to go, but he was hungry and tired. Graeme got off the ice, changed and was ready to skate again in a week.

Chapter 7... Graeme Learns to Fly

It was a comfortable warm summer Muskoka day. The kind of day where the sun lit every corner of the room, clouds are in the sky but somehow only amplify the sunshine. There was noise all around as people moved from one place to another. They were shopping, chatting, walking and just commuting one place to another. 

Graeme and Gerald sat on a bench in the park. They had just picked up some ice cream from the snack bar. Gerald's was chocolate with all kinds of chunky chocolate chips mixed through it. Graeme preferred a sweet orange sherbet.  As the sun shawn down on them they sat in silence trying to eat as much of their treats before it dripped down their arms and all over their shirts. At this moment Graeme asked Gerald a question. "Gerry," he said, "If I had wings like yours I'd fly all over the place. Why do you just stand around all the time? What is so exciting about watching these people?"

Gerald took one bite of his chocolate ice cream and paused to let it melt on his tongue. "Is that what's holding you back?" Graeme was puzzled, "I can't." "Close your eyes." Gerald interrupted.

Graeme closed his eyes.

Gerald took a deep breath and began to lead Graeme towards imagination.

"Take a deep breath. Imagine yourself alone on top of a small hill. Flying is not about getting from one place to another. Flying is finding yourself and letting the Earth move beneath you. This way you don't end up where you want to be, but where you need to be."

Gerald continued. "Picture yourself being lifted from the ground, The effort here is not yours to make, let the ground work and fall away from you. Feel the breeze under you pushing you to the sky. Look down, do you see the ground beginning to move? Where is it taking you?"

In his mind Graeme saw and felt all of this happening. He experienced flying, but was not travelling far. "I am flying, but I'm just floating around town." "How do you feel about that?" asked Gerald. Feeling content with the experience, Graeme responded with a smile "I feel pretty good about it."

Gerald took a bite of the cone whose most the ice cream had melted away, and asked "Does that answer your question?"

Graeme did not answer. His eyes were closed, his ice cream poured out from the bottom of the cone and onto the bench.