The Feeling That Made Me Pull My Daughter Off the Ice

It was one of those hard winters where the pond in the park freezes thick, and by tradition the local kids skate and slide on it once the town puts out the sign that says the ice is safe. The sign was out. Two dozen children were on it. My daughter, eight, was in the middle of the pack, sliding and laughing.

I was watching from the bank, coffee in hand, perfectly relaxed. And then, for no reason I can point to, I was not relaxed. A certainty landed on me, cold and total, that I needed to get my daughter off the ice immediately. Not a worry. A command, from somewhere under my own thoughts.

I did not debate it. I called her name, sharp enough that she came right away, a little annoyed at being pulled from her friends. I walked her firmly back to the solid bank and did not let her argue. I could not have explained it to her. I could barely explain it to myself. Other parents glanced at me.