𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 | ᵍʳᵉʸˢ ᵃⁿᵃᵗᵒᵐʸ

𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 | ¹⁹⁹⁶

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐍, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔

That night, before my life on the ice began, the sky was full of stars, as if they were there to show me that even in the darkness there would always be a light.

Tomorrow was my first big figure skating competition, and the emotions in my little seven-year-old body were going crazy.

The creaking of the wooden floor in the hallway snapped me out of my thoughts. I heard footsteps and immediately realized it was Dad.

I quickly scurried back to bed, turned off the lamp on my nightstand, and pulled the covers over my head.

Maybe he was just passing by, I thought. But the sound of the door opening told me it was too late, he had caught me.

"Missy, are you still up?" my father wondered as a spot of light fell into the room. His voice sounded muffled through the blanket over my head.

"No...?" I replied hesitantly, hoping he would believe me. I heard footsteps approaching and his soft laughter.

"You're a terrible liar, sweetheart."

Dad sat on the edge of my bed and turned on the bedside lamp. I let the covers fall slowly and looked up at him, caught.

"What's wrong, honey?" he asked worriedly, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

"Are you excited about tomorrow?"

And then it all poured out, a jumble of words, fears, doubts. "I can't sleep, Daddy, I'm so scared, what if I slip or fall? What if I forget the whole routine? What if I don't even make the first jump?"

My words tumbled out, each syllable soaked in pure panic. "Hey, hey, stop, Missy," he tried to calm me down, but my fear was like an unstoppable avalanche.

"What if I stand there and I can't remember anything, and everyone is staring at me, and I just stand there like... like... like a stupid little girl, and then everyone will laugh, and I'll embarrass myself, and you'll be so disappointed, and Mom too, and everyone will say I never should have tried, and Aunt Nancy will remind me every Thanksgiving and every Christmas how I failed, and I'll fall, Dad, I know I'll fall tomorrow, and then..."

Dad looked at me worriedly, as if trying to find a way to help me. "Missy, breathe," he interrupted me, trying to make sense of my uncontrollable thoughts.

"You put so much pressure on yourself. You're talented, you're prepared, and you love the ice, remember? The joy it brings you?"

I shook my head, tears glistening in my eyes.

"But what about the other girls? What if they're better? What if I can't compete? What if..."

"It's not about being better than the others," he said firmly. "It's about doing your best, following your heart. You are already good enough."

I looked at our hands, his so big and strong, mine so small and shaky.

"I... I just don't want to disappoint you, Daddy."

He hugged me tight to his chest, as if he could protect me from any harm in this world.

"No matter what happens tomorrow, Missy.
I'm incredibly proud of you. And so is Mommy. You could never disappoint us."

We stayed like that for a while, just Dad and me. It was comforting, uplifting.

"Will you be there?" I asked quietly, my voice nearly choked with tears.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for anything in the world."

At that moment, I felt a little lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

"Do you promise?"

"I promise," he said, stroking my hair. Just like he always did when he wanted to comfort me.

"Now try to get some sleep, okay? Big day tomorrow."

His words soothed my troubled heart. I felt my eyelids grow heavy as he began to rock me to sleep.

"Good night, Daddy," I murmured, my voice soft and slightly slurred.

He gently lowered my limp body back onto the pillows, pulled the blanket up to my shoulders, and kissed my forehead.

"Good night, my little star girl."

That night I dreamed of ice surfaces sparkling under my skates, and of my father always standing by the boards, ready to catch me no matter how many times I fell.