One winter, when I was a kid, my family took a trip to visit my grandparents in their little countryside home. The whole place was covered in snow, and there was a frozen pond nearby. My cousins and I were over the moon—it was perfect for skating. None of us really knew what we were doing, but we didn’t care.
We dug out these old, slightly rusty skates from the attic and stumbled onto the ice. It was a mess of laughter, flailing arms, and unsteady steps. At one point, my cousin dared me to race across to the other side. I was halfway there when I heard this loud crack right under my feet. My heart nearly stopped.
But then, out of nowhere, I saw my uncle doubled over, laughing. He’d been crunching sticks on the shore just to freak us out. I wanted to be mad, but I couldn’t stop laughing along with everyone else.