To My Son,
Watching you on the ice has taught me just as much about life as it’s taught you. The way you lace up, step onto that cold surface, and give everything you have — it speaks volumes about who you are and who you’re becoming.
I see the determination in your eyes when the puck drops. The way you battle for every play, never shying away from the corners or the hard shifts. That grit — that refusal to quit — is something you’ve built for yourself, and I admire it deeply.
But I need you to know something else — something I learned the hard way: I don’t want you to hold back in life because of fear.
For so many years, I kept myself small. I stayed quiet when I wanted to speak up. I chose the safe path when my heart longed for more. I let what other people might think of me decide what I did, what I dreamed of, and even how I saw myself.
And I don’t want that for you.
Life is a lot like the game you love. There are breakaways — moments where it’s just you and the goal — and there are times you’ll feel stuck in the neutral zone, fighting to gain control. Both matter. Both teach you who you are.
Your goals and dreams are yours to chase, and you should chase them. Sometimes, that will mean being a little selfish — calling your own play, taking the shot even when no one else sees it coming. Don’t apologize for that. You deserve to take up space in this world, to skate wide and fast and claim what’s yours.
People may judge you for it — they may whisper from the stands or even shout from the bench — but don’t let their opinions take up space in your mind. They don’t get to play your game. You are the one living your life. You are the one on the ice.
There will be nights when the puck doesn’t bounce your way, when you feel like you’ve spent the whole game backchecking and never got your chance. Those are the nights that matter most — when you keep showing up anyway.
I want you to have the courage to keep going, even when the days feel long and the ice feels slippery beneath you. I want you to take the leaps I was once too afraid to take. And above all, I want you to live your life in a way that leaves no room for regret — never wondering what could have happened if you’d just trusted yourself enough to take the shot.
I’ve seen how far you’ve come since the day you first decided to step onto the ice at 14. Most people would have said it was too late to start, but you proved them wrong. You showed that when your heart’s in it, there is no clock on determination.
So here is what I hope for you:
That you never stop setting goals — and you keep finding the courage to take the shots that scare you.
That you never stop dreaming big — and believing you deserve to be on the ice, no matter who else is out there.
That you trust yourself enough to skate into open space — and chase what makes you happiest, even if it means skating away from what’s comfortable.
That you live a life where you can look back one day and say you left nothing on the ice — no chances untried, no dreams ignored, no regrets.
This is your game, your life, your dream. You are capable of more than you even know.
And just like always, I’ll be here — in the stands, cheering you on, proud of the man you’re becoming.
Keep skating toward what sets your soul on fire, son. Take up space. Call your play. The ice is yours.
Love,
Mom
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