COME CATCH A DREAM

A skating devotee returns to the rink.

The advent of autumn means just one thing for our starry-eyed protagonist: Ice-skating season is approaching. And so, as the leaves begin to turn, park strolls with Momma do double duty, equal parts daily ritual and pilgrimage to the waiting ice. Resplendent in all its ephemeral glory yet empty until opening day, the rink grows ever more inviting with each passing walk—our skater’s anticipation more palpable, too—until a subversive mid-story reveal illuminates the rationale behind our hero’s impatience. The narrator yearns to hit the ice not to confidently show off but, rather, to try again after a calamitous first skate last winter; this year’s return offers a second chance to nail the icy twirl of our athlete’s dreams. When the big day dawns, the youngster takes to the rink, laces snug and knees wobbling. But Momma’s encouraging mantra rings truer than ever—nothing, not even a challenge on ice, is impossible. An ode to the learning process, Thurman’s text applies an easy coolness to the clumsiness that learning entails—practice made perfect by affirming beat poetry—while Mil’s captivating aesthetic renders the skater with a lovable, root-for-able expressiveness. The result is one worth cheering. The protagonist is brown-skinned, lighter-skinned than Momma and darker than Daddy.

A tale that more than sticks its landing.