The Place Where Nothing Else Mattered

When I found out we're getting a skating rink nearby in 2027, I was probably more excited than any grown adult should be.

I already have my turquoise skates.

I've been waiting for this day for a very long time.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it isn't really about the rink.

It's about what the rink represented.

When I was growing up, the skating rink was my place.

I can still remember the feeling of gliding across the smooth floor, the breeze against my face as I picked up speed, and the sound of my wheels rolling beneath me.

I remember practicing for figure skating and dance competitions when the rink was nearly empty.

Just me, the music, and hours of practice.

I remember the other side of it too.

The loud music.

The DJ.

The arcade games.

The laughter.

The friendships.

I remember gathering in the middle of the rink to talk with friends because it was the only place you could stop moving.

We'd stand there laughing, talking, and practicing spins before jumping back into the flow of the crowd.

And then there was the concession stand.

I was always hungry, but I never wanted to stop skating long enough to miss a good song. Nachos and pickles were my go-to snack.

Honestly, now that I think about it, that may be where my lifelong love of snack foods began.

Popcorn, pretzels, pickles- I still love them all.

But what stands out most isn't the food or the music.

It's how I felt there.

The rink was one of the only places I can remember where nothing else mattered.

I wasn't worried about tomorrow.

I wasn't thinking about problems.

I wasn't carrying responsibilities.

I was simply in the moment.

Free.

Looking back now, I realize the rink taught me something else too.

I fell a lot.

And every single time, I got back up.

I never sat there thinking about whether I should quit.

I never questioned whether I was capable. I just got up and tried again.

Over and over.

Somewhere along the way, that became part of who I am.

The rink wasn't just where I learned to skate.

It was where I learned persistence.

It was where I learned confidence.

It was where I learned joy.

It was where I learned that falling down isn't the end of the story.

So, when I found out a rink is finally coming back to our area, something inside me lit up.

A spark I haven't felt in a long time.

Not because I want to relive the past.

But because I'm remembering a part of myself that has always been there.

The girl who loved to skate.

The girl who kept getting back up.

The girl who felt completely free.

And after all these years, I think I'm ready to roll again. 🛼💙

But this story isn't really about a skating rink.

It's about those places, hobbies, and moments that helped shape who we are.

The places where we felt alive.

The places where we felt free.

The places where nothing else mattered.

Maybe for you it wasn't a skating rink.

Maybe it was a baseball field, a dance studio, a hiking trail, a horse barn, a library, or a corner of your grandmother's kitchen.

Whatever it was, I hope this is your reminder that those parts of you aren't gone.

They may have been quiet for a while.

They may have gotten buried under responsibilities, schedules, and everyday life.

But they're still there.

Maybe finding your way back isn't about going backward at all.

Maybe it's about remembering a part of yourself that was there all along.