by J.K Citrus

Created on: August 22, 2008   Last Updated: November 01, 2008

Fifty. I tried it out. Fifty. It sounded awkward, almost like it didn't apply to me. I couldn't be fifty already. Wow, I was half a century old. "Blow out the birthday candles! There's a bunch! We put fifty on!". I sucked in air, and with a look around at my family, I blew. A snicker from a child, hands clamped onto mouths to hide erupting grins. I raised an eyebrow at them, what was going on? Then chuckling began. I glanced at the cake and realized the candles were still ablaze. Oh no. They didn't. Needles to say, they did, and I huffed and puffed until I was purple, but they still didn't go out. I shook my head and joined in the chorus of laughter.

I smiled whenever I relived that beautiful evening, but I also felt a curtain of sadness envelope me. I have lived for fifty years. I kept trying to look at the glass half full, but I could't help seeing it as half empty. I thought about my life, about my family, about anything other than "my dream". But it skipped back into my head. I had always known that it was too late, but now, I somehow felt it more. It tugged at my heart. My long forgotten dream. Too late for it, I always told myself. The more I thought about it, the more I felt the need to fill that empty piece in the puzzle of my life.

One night, as I lay awake, and listened to the snoring of my husband, the candles came to my mind. It was like my dream. The harder I blew at the candles, the flames glowed stronger, fighting against the gust of wind trying to smother them. I was doing that to my dream. I yearned to fulfill my fantasy, but was trying to stifle that desire. That's when I promised myself to quench the thirst to make my dream reality, regardless of what it took.

"Be careful honey." My husband was worried. I, on the other hand, was exstatic! "You sure you want to do this? Don't hurt yourself." How many times would I have to tell him before he understood? I was fifty now. I had to do this. "Wait mom!" My daughter was beside me. She grinned, "At least wear these." She handed me a silver helmet, and matching knee and elbow pads. I was already going to look hilarious, but none of that mattered now, I was about to live my dream! I held onto the door frame as I put one foot on the smooth ice. This was it! I smiled and took a step. Wham! My husband and daughter were immediately crouched next to me, they looked pale, definitely worse than I did sprawled out on all fours! The skating instuctor sailed over to us. How I envied her abilities to skate! "Are you alright?" she questioned as she offered a mittened hand out to me. "Hold on a second ma'am. You left your skate guards on." She bent down and helped me take them off. I knew I should be embarrassed, my teacher was adressing me as "ma'am", but how could I? I was going to learn how to skate! I knew I would never be Olympics material now that I was fifty, but none of that even mattered anymore. I only wanted...needed, to learn how to skate.

Friday afternoons, I took skating lessons. Saturdays, I went to the ice rink. It was a difficult journey, I was always bruised all over. It felt uncomfortable having people half my age teaching me, but I soaked up all the tips they gave me like a sponge. I loved it. I loved the wet feeling of the ice when I fell, I loved lacing my skates up tight before I went onto the ice. I loved pretending I was an ice princess, gliding on glass. But what I loved most, was the satisfied feeling inside me. My heart was full and happy. Finally the candles could go out, they had finished their job. At last, I filled the missing piece of the puzzle. I was fifty and loving it!

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