There’s something about the end of a color guard season that never quite feels like an ending.
It’s more like a quiet exhale after months of spinning, tossing, catching, counting, traveling, cheering—and growing.
The 2025–2026 season marks our fifth year in the world of color guard, a world we didn’t even know existed until Charlotte stepped onto the floor her freshman year of high school and changed everything. What started as “something new” quickly became something much bigger. She took to it so naturally, like she had been waiting for it all along. And in many ways, so were we.
This year, watching all of my kids carve out their own place in guard has been something special.
Katie, my eighth grader, performing with the Blue Guard at APC Allegany Performance Company, surrounded by older, more experienced performers—and never once shrinking. She holds her own with a quiet confidence and performs with a grace that feels far beyond her years. You don’t watch Katie and think “young.” You watch her and think “meant for this.”
Henry, now a seasoned performer after starting in seventh grade, continues to amaze me every time he steps onto the floor. There’s a presence about him—something captivating. The strength, the control, the risks he takes with his performance—it’s mesmerizing. This season brought another full-circle moment as he stepped into a new role as a first-year instructor for the Junior Guard, giving back to the very activity that helped shape him. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was recently named Drum Major for Fort Hill for the upcoming season—an honor that feels both earned and inevitable.
And then there’s the bigger picture—the four APC guards: Junior, Blue, Black, and Red. A full, thriving program. A season filled with dedication, long practices, and the kind of teamwork that only comes from shared struggle and shared success.
Color guard is often misunderstood. People see the flags, the uniforms, the performances—but they don’t always see the discipline behind it. The hours of practice. The bruises. The repetition. The mental focus it takes to synchronize not just your body, but your trust in the people around you. It’s physical, yes—but it’s also deeply emotional, collaborative, and demanding in ways that go far beyond what meets the eye.
And maybe one of the most beautiful things about it is this: there is a place for everyone.
Color guard doesn’t ask you to fit into a mold. It doesn’t care about your size, your background, or whether you’ve ever done anything like it before. It welcomes you—and then challenges you to become something stronger, more confident, more connected. That kind of inclusion matters. It changes kids.
Our season, as always, wrapped in Wildwood, New Jersey—a trip that has become tradition. One that carries a little extra weight this year. My mom loved Wildwood. She would go any chance she got, soaking in the energy, the ocean air, the excitement of it all. Being there without her felt different… but in a way, it also felt like she was right there with us in all the moments that mattered.
This year’s performance was set to “The Promise” by Tracy Chapman—a song about reunion, about the hope of seeing someone again after loss. I don’t believe in coincidences like that. Standing there, watching my kids perform that story, it felt like something deeper was being said without words.
Not every part of this journey is easy. There are moments of judgment—misunderstandings from the outside looking in. But I won’t give those moments much space here. Because the truth is simple: nothing has been handed to any of my children. They have worked—hard. They show up, they practice on their own, they push themselves, they earn every opportunity they’ve been given. And that’s something I will always stand behind. There’s no room for jealousy when you understand the level of effort it takes to be here.
So here we are—another season complete. Another chapter closed, but not finished.
And life doesn’t slow down from here.
Charlotte is wrapping up her freshman year of college. Preston is preparing to tour with the Cavaliers this summer—a dream in motion. Henry is stepping into leadership in a whole new way. And we’re holding onto hope for even more good news in the weeks ahead.
But for now, I just want to pause here—in this moment—and say thank you.
To the staff who pour their time, energy, and heart into these kids.
To the parents who show up, support, and carry the load together.
To the student leaders who set the tone and lift others up.
And to my kids—who continue to show me, season after season, what it looks like to commit, to grow, and to shine.
Until next season.
