I keep telling myself that life never goes as planned, and yet I still struggle not to be disappointed when it does just that.

My daughter, now a senior, has decided not to swim this year. She’s always been such a fish–we’re talking jumping off the high dive at three kind of fish. Mind you, she’s not the fastest fish in the pool, but her endurance to just keep swimming never failed. She should have been born with gills.

To say I wasn’t thrilled with her decision is an understatement. I love the sport of swimming and will miss it, but if she’s going to wrestle now I have to go where she will be. The formation of a girls’ league in our state has attracted many young ladies to give wrestling a go. My sons have always wrestled so she knows what the sport entails, but watching her come home after open mat practice these past few months has been hilarious. She seems to wake up to a new bruise every time, yet she never talks about giving up. I have to give her props for that. I don’t think there is a more physically grueling sport out there, and just because they’re girls doesn’t seem to change that.

To be honest, I would have felt more comfortable if she had stayed where she had always been–swimming away to her heart’s content. We’d been doing it for so long, I just figured we always would. At times like these I have to remind myself to keep quiet. It’s her life–not mine–and she has the right to do what she wants with it.