Frozen Teardrop Read Online Free PDF Page B

but always keeping the imagination and mystery within my head. I wanted to never lose the magic. Yet within any magic, such as what I would later create on the ice with my spins, I learned the hard way that just creating magic is not enough. There is a price for it and there needs to be rules. While creating my magic, I sadly had no rules for myself or for my sanity.
    There also was a beautiful public garden very near to our home that was a secret and magical wonderland for me. I played there for hours at a time without ever losing interest in the glorious flowers and trees and the always amazing little insects walking or flying busily about. I went on donkey rides there every week. My senses were completely awake and engaged during play times and I especially enjoyed the puppet shows performed in the open air. My mother and I saw these shows at least twice a week and they were my absolute favorite. I had the time of my life watching these amazing little puppets — for once something smaller than I was — moving about in unimaginable ways, reciting enchanting stories and clever observations. I laughed in absolute joy while sitting on the rickety little chairs thoughtfully provided on the perfectly manicured lawn. It was a magical time for me and I never wanted the stories to end.
    It was wonderful as a child to watch these puppets move, dance, and speak without ever understanding how it all worked. We were allowed to believe it was real just as I would one day lead audiences to believe my own fairy-tale was real. My own fairy-tale was of course real in a sense, but I always left out the troubles and the traumas endured behind the scenes, just as those magnificent puppeteers had done for me. I suppose distinguishing realities would always prove a significant challenge for me since my childhood seemed always to be an intoxicating mixture of both harsh reality and made-to-order euphoria — especially in later years when realities would become more complicated and the puppeteers less benevolent and altruistic.
    Throughout our time in Paris the following of my sister’s activities was the first priority since she was the eldest. She was so talented in many areas of life. She was extremely intelligent and at times stubborn, yet she had a kindness of heart and soul that radiated throughout the whole family. At that time she was my hero in many respects but I don’t think she ever felt quite the same love toward me. She would take responsibility of babysitting me during my toddler years but she was still a young child herself and so rather uncomfortably, she would clumsily drop me or allow my head to bump against a wall. I think she felt I stole the show from her, first from my birth and then with my success on the ice, but this was never my intention or desire. In telling my story, I hope she can see that many things were not as she envisioned them and I always loved and admired her in a myriad of ways. I suppose it is always difficult for a child to accept a new sister or brother after being the only child for so many years. Other stresses, inherent in so many of our life circumstances and choices, seemed only to compound the awkwardness between us.
    My sister attended many summer and winter skating camps in France and neighboring countries and since my mother accompanied her, I went too. I would skate a little as well, but every time my mother entered the rink with me in tow I cried and screamed as if I did not want to enter such a foreboding place. And so I mostly played outside in the sunshine with all the other young siblings of the future figure-skating champions. The moment I entered the building I entered another world apart from reality. The smell of gasoline from the Zamboni machine mixed with the smell of frozen ice, the sounds of blades on ice while teachers shouted their criticisms or occasional praise could be heard over the all-too-repetitive classical music — all combined into a surrealistic