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They say you can never go home again but really that's just total bunk. You can always go home again its just that you never know what you are going to find when you get there. Sometimes you might be better off if you don't go.
When I was growing up I was a total hockey rat. For a few years I lived and breathed hockey all year round. Field hockey, ice hockey, deck hockey, it didn't matter. My second home was a small rink close enough to home that I could ride my bike with hockey sticks strapped to my back. I haven't been there in some time so while I was at my dad's last weekend I thought I would stop by and see what was new. Sadly I found it closed years ago because of the combination of out of control insurance costs and competition from new high-tech rinks that have opened in the area.
I guess this is what memories are for because I have nothing but good ones of this place. Even the bad memories are good. This was the first place I played organized hockey outside of school. A place I played hockey with my brother, coached my sister, and skated with my parents. It's also the scene of a gem of our family lore. When I was 14 there were only girls' leagues and boys' leagues, nothing mixed. To be honest the girls' league was a bit lame because at the time deck hockey was just too uncool for an area than dominated by soccer. One weekend I decided I was going to play with the boys to which they laughed until one snickered and said something along the lines of lets see what she can do, she wont last a game. What i did was break his nose with a check into the boards. I wasn't allowed anywhere near the rink for weeks after that. To this day my dad can't tell that story without breaking into a laugh.
I was just such a sweet girl back than, than again I still am.