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Making Memories

One Katy mom makes memories with her boys at Mason Road Skate Center

March 22, 2010 –Katy, TX –My boys had been playing hard outside all spring break soaking up the gorgeous weather, and so when they asked if I could take them to the local skating rink yesterday I was surprised. “Don’t you want to enjoy this amazing seventy degree weather before it starts to get too hot outside?” I asked them. But they persisted, and so we loaded up and started off, stopping to load up some friends in the back. As we drove, I rolled the windows down and popped open the sunroof; determined to soak up the short-lived spring weather as much as possible. I was still grumbling to myself when we entered the building, thinking how we were wasting the day inside.

As soon as we stepped foot into the skating rink, though, I was immediately transported back in time. It’s funny how some things simply never change. Flooding my senses was the overpowering smell of a locker room-or was that the rented roller skates? Be that as it may, I paid our entrance fee and the boys began to slip on their skates to the sounds of Beyonce’ booming in our ears.

This was not our first foray to the local rink before. We’ve visited on rainy summer afternoons and for numerous birthday parties throughout the years. But I was always either skating with the boys to encourage them to let go of the wall, or walking our youngest son around the rink while he fearfully held onto me for dear life. This was the first time ever that I wasn’t doing either! My boys had matured enough to whiz around the rink without any encouragement or aid from me. Sitting down at one of the many tables lined up, I settled down with a book, peeking over it every so often to cheer them on.

I remember fondly the many hours I spent at the local skating rink as a young girl.  The dimmed lights, the looming disco ball in the center of the rink casting glittery shadows on the skaters below, and the pounding music are all woven into my memory forever. Wearing my favorite blue velour bellbottom pants with the word “BOOGIE” emblazoned in rhinestones on the back pocket made me feel like a roller skating goddess.  As I sat and watched my boys glide effortlessly around and around, it occurred to me how some things in life really never change.

True, the music my boys were grooving to was not The Bee Gees or Diana Summer of my youth. They were instead mouthing the words to The Black Eyed Peas and groaning when Justin Bieber’s voice was piped in. But the pure joy on their sweaty faces, the preteen girls obsessed with their appearance looking to each other for reassurance, and the smell of the greasy food offered up made me smile in recognition. I remember this. And I hope my boys will, too. This was not a day wasted inside. This was a day for making memories.

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