Excerpt: Spirals

My name is Celeste Ann Young, and I am a figure skater.

Figure skating has always been a part of me; an essence of my identity. With two older sisters who skated as well, and a father who coached them, it was natural that I would follow in the family tradition and lace up some boots as well. But it was never a very serious thing for me; more of something that could keep me occupied and out of trouble while Dad spent endless hours perfecting the art that my sisters created.

My life was very simple and carefree. My family- my dad, Karen, Lisa and I,- lived in a snug house nestled in the Lake Arrowhead mountains. My mother died giving birth to me, and Karen says he never got over the sorrow of losing her.

I don't remember my mother at all, considering that I was just a few hours old when she left us. Ann Elizabeth Young was her name...Lisa and I were named after her. We carry her in our names, but I know my father carries her in his heart; I can tell by the little bit of his eyes that he keeps still and silent, even while laughing.

To me, "mother" is no more than a name; a something that changed my life whether I realize it or not. When I was small, I used to climb up on Karen's lap and snuggle into her warm, comforting arms, as I held the small framed photo of my mother that I owned.

"Tell me about mommy, Karen", I would ask, as I traced the outline of the smiling figure under the glass. I had memorized every feature; her wavy black hair; the way her nosed crinkled as she smiled; her laughing eyes.

"Mom was the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth", Karen would always reply, and I believed her unconditionally. Karen had been five when I was born and mom died, so she had known better than anyone of what mom was like.

"She loved fun things, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and Jane Austen. She loved having things clean, and she would drive everyone crazy over the smallest thing misplaced. She loved us all a lot and I loved her too."

Hearing the little twinge of sadness in Karen's voice, I snuggled a little closer into her comforting embrace and tried to envision this being who was so loved by all and still missed. I wish I had had a chance to get to know her, but as a child I could not conjure up a lot of emotion about a person that I had never known or experienced. But if mother had lived and if I had known her, I imagined that she would be a lot like Karen.

Dear, sweet, loving Karen. She was the only mother figure I had ever known, and what a wonderful figure she was. In my child-like eyes, she could do no wrong. Always kind, always gentle, she babied and spoiled me, perhaps trying to make up for the maternal love that I could never experience.

Karen was eight years my senior and resembled our mother in appearance and demeanor, although she inherited our father's quiet and serious disposition as well. Always gentle in voice and manner, she had quietly and calmly taken on the role as keeper of the home in our little family, and spent many of her hours doing the little odd jobs that few noticed, but could sense when they were left undone. I don't think I ever fully appreciated just how much she did that she never let on about...she never asked for praise or rewards, only love in return.

This selflessness of character and a steadfast sense of personal responsibility radiated in every area of Karen's life, but never more than when she pursued her passion, the sport of figure skating.

To explain just how important figure skating has been to my family would require going back many years, back to my ancestral home of Japan, and explain a bit of my father's background and character.

Figure skating is as much a part of our family as the people itself...I could no more imagine our family not involved in skating than I could imagine myself to fly. It's always been in our blood, even before my dad's mother, my grandmother, was a nationally ranked pairs skater in her native country of Japan. Her name was Kasumi Mori, and she was one of the most beautiful and expressive Japanese skaters that ever competed. A freak accident with her skating partner had ended any chance of being able to compete against the world's best in large competitions, but I don't think it ever mattered much to her...grandmother loved to skate for the passion and the beauty of the sport, not for the medals.

When my grandmother was still young, she married Ichirou Young, my grandfather, a wealthy Japanese businessman of distant Chinese descent. Ten years into their marrage, after having three children, my aunt Mitsuko, my uncle Tomata and my father, Saburo, my grandfather decided to expand his prospects and moved his family and business to California.

While my grandmother never skated after marrying grandfather, deeming it an inappropriate and unseemly thing for a wife and mother to do, she insured that her loe of the ice was passed on down to her children, and gave them all the opportunity to experience the joy she had known via recreational classes.

While Uncle Tomata decided that inheriting the family business was where his heart lay, and Aunt Mitsuko never married but dedicated her life to helping the less fortunate, it was my father who carried on my grandmother's passion for figure skating. He never advanced beyond a casual skater himself, but he was fascinated with the sport and pursued a degree in sports education and coaching in college. His mother, proud and pleased that one of her children had inherited her love, made sure that he was financially secure before she passed on. My grandparents lived long enough to see my father fall in love with a beautiful American-Japanese girl named Ann, and to see them open up a state-of-the-art ice facility in the Arrowhead mountains of California.

At first Dad set out to make a living doing what he loved, coaching aspiring skaters and enjoying life with his family. Karen said he was so laid-back and mellow, back then. Away from the influence of his loving but very strict, traditional father, and in love with a free-spirited, upbeat wife, all the best qualities in him were brought out, and he wanted nothing more than to love his family and be loved by them.

"It was mom's greatest wish that we would all grow up to be happy, content individuals who lived out our lives with no regret, doing what we truly loved. She supported dad and the ice rink, and it was her idea that daddy teach us how to skate. It was more of a recreational thing though, until she died."

I believe that Daddy loved mother very, very much, and that when she died, a part of him died too. I was too young to remember the old dad, and the only dad I am aquainted with is the dad that he is now. Karen says he is different, and that is a bit difficult for me to understand...it's very hard for me to visualize Dad as anything other than the reserved, strict man he is today.

I never really remember Daddy being tender or very affectionate with me. Or any of us, for that matter. Lisa said that when she was small, he used to play games with her and toss her up in the air, tickling her until she laughed. I don't remember Daddy ever doing that with me. He has always been kind, and I know he loved me, but affection was not something that he gave. If I needed a hug or something like that, Karen was the one to go to. She's always been there for me; ever since I can remember. She said that when Mom died, she was so sad and lonely that the one thing that made her happy was taking care of me. Lisa said she was fiercely protective of me, always guarding me and keeping a jealous eye on the nannies who were hired to watch me until I was old enough to be taken care of by Karen, around the time I was five. She was mother, sister and guardian all wrapped into one, and I can honestly say that she played a much larger part in my day-to-day life than Dad ever did.

He was the figure of authority, the dealer of good and kind things, but also sternness and discipline. A slight figure, he was not imposing in stature but in character. I was never afraid of him, but I always held him in a sort of awe and regard.

Just as Dad was strict and required exact discipline at home, the same went for the ice rink. Everyone was expected to show up at practice, on time, without exception. Actual skating time was not to be wasted, and laziness or carelessness would not be tolerated. I saw him speak very strongly to many a wayward student. He never raised his voice; not once, but you could tell by his tone and manner that he was not to be crossed, ever. His very tone could send chills down your spine, and send that erring individual scurrying to do his slightest bidding.

Not that he ever really took much notice of me, though. Originally, I was never in the skating picture at all. When Mom died and Dad finally came out of his deep mourning, he poured himself into Karen and Lisa, and their skating. I think it was his way of trying to get through the pain and loss he was feeling, and a way to keep the girls near him and close to his heart, at a place where he knew they were always near and safe.