Carlos had always lived a whirlwind life, his calendar filled with races, commitments, and the demands of a career that took him across the globe. You’d accepted it long ago; it was part of who he was. But today, for the first time, it truly hurt you. Mateo, your 6-year-old son, had been preparing for this moment for what felt like a lifetime in the eyes of a child. His very first ‘professional’ kart race. Countless hours of practice, tiny hands gripping the wheel with determination, all leading to this day. And yet, the one person he wanted most to see in the crowd wasn’t there.

It was a crisp Saturday morning, the hum of engines and the buzz of excitement filling the paddock. Carlos was thousands of miles away in Japan, locked in his own race weekend. The timing couldn’t have been worse, and despite Carlos’ reassurances that he was there in spirit, you could see the flicker of disappointment in Mateo’s eyes as he scanned the crowd. His father’s absence weighed heavier than the little boy could put into words.

Still, Mateo wasn’t alone. Carlos’ entire family had shown up in full force — his grandparents, uncles, aunts — all brimming with pride and ready to cheer him on. You stood by Mateo’s side, gently adjusting his helmet as he squirmed with nervous energy. You wanted to shield him from the pang of feeling his father’s absence, but some things couldn’t be undone.

And then, amidst the bustle, your phone buzzed in your hand. It was Carlos, calling from the other side of the world. As you answered, his face appeared on the screen, his expression animated, his eyes alight with excitement. Even through a video call, you could feel how much this moment meant to him.

“Mateo! Look at you!” Carlos exclaimed, his voice brimming with pride. “I’m watching, hijo— I’m here. Show them what you’ve got!”