Brooke and Logan
The cold air in the arena nips at my nose. The familiar chill brings a smile to my face. I glance over at Logan trying to get a read on how he is feeling, but he’s got his game face on as he gazes out at the ice rink. It’s the first day of training camp and the first year Logan will be playing for the Seattle Thunderbirds junior league. This team is tough and fierce and one of the hardest junior leagues to get on. But not for my boy, he went into tryouts and blew past the competition like it was nothing. The coaches were all shocked and said they had never seen a twelve-year-old with as much pure talent as Logan had. That came as no shock to me. I knew from the first moment Logan stepped out on the ice when he was six years old, that he was born to play hockey.
Logan has been our wild child since the moment he entered this world. The boy came out ass first. He is full of fire and a daredevil spirit. We tried to tame that fire by putting him in sports. Football, Baseball, Soccer, but nothing seemed to stick. We were about to give up when one of our neighbors suggested Hockey. Logan loved being on the ice whenever we would go skating at Christmas time, we would have to carry him off the ice kicking and screaming, because he wouldn’t want to leave. So, hockey seemed like a good choice and boy were we right. To say Logan excelled at it would be putting it mildly. This kid has hockey in his DNA. He comes to life out on the ice. He eats, sleeps, and breathes it. I’m so proud of how far he has come.
I’ve been on this journey with him since day one. Brian had been working late on a case the night before Logan’s first practice, so I offered to take Logan to early morning practice. I knew nothing about the sport. I’d only been to one Bruins game when I lived in Boston, we were mainly a football and baseball household when I was growing up. All I knew was that you had to get the puck in the net. After that first practice and watching my son out on the ice there was no way I wasn’t going to be at every practice and game cheering him on. With a few lessons from my fellow hockey mom’s and some extensive google researching I could give those commentators on the NHL Network a run for their money. Hockey is the thing Logan and I have bonded over. He doesn’t mind if Brian misses a game, but he always wants his momma there in the stands. No matter where he goes in his hockey career, I will always be there rooting for him.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask, before I take a sip of my coffee.
“Hell, yes I am,” he replies.
“Logan, watch the language,” I scold. I admire his confidence, but not necessarily his choice of words to express it.
“Sorry, mom. What I mean is, I was born ready for this.” A cocky grin slides across his lips. That is a grin I know all too well, it’s the same one his father has. Logan is so much like Brian it’s scary. Sweet, confident and cocky as hell. My sweet boy is gonna give this world a run for its money. .
As the other boys start to venture out of the locker room, I fight the urge to reach over and hug Logan, knowing it’s not cool to be seen hugging your mom. Logan can sense my hesitation and looks up at me and says. “It’s okay mom, you can hug me, but do it before the other guys see.”
I let out a little squeak of excitement then pull him in for a big mama bear hug. Before I let him go I sneak in a quick kiss to his cheek. “Good luck out there,” I say, as I reluctantly release him from my grips.
“You’re gonna stay and watch, right?” he asks.
“Of course I am. I would never miss a moment to watch my baby play.”
Logan’s face scrunches up when I say baby. “Mom could you not call me baby. I’m not a baby anymore, I’m almost a teenager,” he corrects me.
“You’re my son and no matter how old you get you will always be my baby. But I’ll try not to call you baby in public, how’s that?”
“I guess that’s okay.” He shrugs. “I gotta go. I love you mom.” He starts to walk away then turns back to me and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and whispers. “No matter how old I get, you will always be my favorite girl.”