When I was a child, I was utterly captivated by the beautiful, pristine ice princesses of the professional ice skating world. I longed to learn how to skate. My parents bought my first pair of ice skates when I was five or six and my Dad taught me to skate. He did it at home in my very own backyard, just like he taught me how to play all the other sports he loves so well.

One of my absolute favorite memories of my father is of him getting the back pond ready for skating each year.

My sister, brother and I would get all bundled up in our snow suits and snow boots to wade through the waist high snow in our backyard. My Dad would follow behind with a giant snow shovel, clearing a path to the ice covered pond just behind the tree line. That pond was a magical place. Surrounded by a towering ring of evergreens and pine trees, it was perfectly sheltered from the wind. The pond itself was about half the size of a regulation skating rink. My Dad would work for ages, clearing the snow off the top of the pond, to reveal the icy smooth surface underneath. It must have taken ages for him to prep that first winter. Then, we’d drag our picnic table and benches out there, so we’d have a place to lace up our skates and have a rest. Since then, I’ve learned that there are no limits to a father’s love.

My sister and I could hardly wait to lace up our skates and get started. My Dad would tie kitchen cushions to our behinds to soften the landing when we fell and he brought two little baby chairs to push around in front of us to prevent us from falling. He wasn’t one of those Dads that hung around to catch us if we fell. We took our knocks and got back up again. He refused to let us skate on our ankles and eventually, we graduated to skating on our own two feet. We’d spend hours spinning and jumping on the ice surface.

We were all devastated when our next door neighbor decided to clear his field of rocks one year and dumped everything in our beautiful skating pond. My dreams of becoming an ice princess came crashing down.

Towards the end of that summer, my Dad started smoothing out an area in our side field for a basketball court, with the intention of turning the court into a skating rink for us when winter arrived. He never seemed daunted by the overwhelming task of boarding up the area to flood it. He must have spent hours wearing that surface down so it was good enough to skate on. He bought a floodlight and I remember him working late into the night, while we were inside watching TV. Our first step onto that smooth, glassy surface was like stepping onto glass. It was incredible.

Shauna and I eventually ended up taking figure skating lessons at our local arena, and my brother took over the rink at home to hone his goalie skills. I continued to dream of ice princesses; never realizing that I was already an ice princess. My Dad had made sure nof that a long long time ago. He made that dream come true.

Today I’m feeling a bit homesick after speaking with my parents this weekend. I just wanted to say, “Thanks Dad.”