Most people just see a picture of my daughter Molly holding a sign at a hockey game, smiling. I don’t. When I look at it, I see everything she has been through to stand there and smile like that.
Molly turned 18 on September 22, 2021. But if I’m honest, she grew up earlier than that. Ten days earlier, to be exact. September 10th, her first soccer game of senior year. She went down in the last few minutes, screaming in pain, and I knew before anyone said a word her ACL was gone.
Soccer wasn’t the first thing I thought about. It was hockey.
Hockey has been Molly’s love since she was four years old. The rink has always been her place, the one thing that was hers. Back then, I was still drinking, hiding bottles, pretending I had control. She was a kid but already acting like an adult, taking care of her younger brother and sister, sometimes taking care of me. But on the ice, none of that followed her. She was just Molly. The hockey player.
The sound of skates on ice, the speed, the crashes, the cold air hockey let her be a kid. It gave her freedom.
For years she dreamed about this season. Senior year, state tournament, big plans with her team, maybe even a college spot waiting. COVID had already stolen one season and one shot at state. This was supposed to be her year.
And then it wasn’t.
When she was carried off the field, her coach hugged her. I caught him wiping at his eyes. He already knew the road ahead: surgery, pain, crutches, months of rehab, the kind of heartbreak only athletes really understand. Molly didn’t know all of that yet, but she found out soon enough.
She spent two months unable to walk. She put on her helmet and sat on the bench at every game. She smiled for her teammates, but I knew it broke her heart. Every game, every practice it was like she had to get hurt all over again.
But she didn’t let it break her. Somehow, she found her way through.
She started saying, “Why not me? I can handle this.” And she meant it. She adjusted her plans. Instead of talking to college coaches, she started looking at doing a post-grad year. She didn’t quit. She didn’t get bitter.
It wasn’t the first time she had to grow up too soon. Living in a house with my drinking forced her to do that as a little girl. But this this was different. This was her dream on the line.
And yet, she has come out stronger. The setback changed her, but not in a bad way. Now she says I love you more often. She doesn’t get caught up in small stuff. She knows, maybe better than most adults, that life can change in an instant.
Someday, when she steps back onto the ice for her first real game again, she is going to soak up every second of it. I know she will.
So when I look at that photo, I don’t just see a smiling teenager holding a sign. I see a young woman who has already carried more than most people twice her age and who still shines anyway.
And yes she still needs a prom date.
