It was more than an ethereal feeling looking at this plague doctor and watching these children on the ice, without a care in the world.  Having never experienced that as a young peanut, it felt...strange at first to not have any comparative memories to relate to, though it was definitely a joy to watch.  Some skated but couldn't stop.  Some couldn't be knocked over no matter how hard they tried.  One had a wicked slapshot that hit the goal one out of five times, but the one...there was one that was like he was straight up eating cake around the others.  It was as if he was born on to be on the ice and the stick was truly just an extension of his own hands.  The puck, gave in to his every whim and desire.  Ping, Pang, Pong!  Off the vertical pipes and cross-bar anytime he wanted.  Once we locked eyes, it felt strange that he could see me, but not the plague doctor. 

I felt myself starting to vanish as the child stopped and looked on quizzed, and the only thing I could think of saying was the same thing that was told to me when I started my own hockey journey:  "Make it count."