Golf has always been more than just a sport to me—it’s a teacher. It has taught me patience when things didn’t go my way, composure when I felt pressure, and resilience when I was faced with challenges, both on the course and in life. These are the same values I carry with me off the course: in school, in my community, and in the dreams I’m pursuing for the future. I’m a high school senior preparing to go to college with the goal of one day attending medical school. My dream is to become a echocardiographic technician or work in a field where I can care for others, especially children. I have always had a nurturing heart, and I spend a lot of time babysitting, volunteering at community events, and educating kids in my neighborhood—especially my younger sister—on online safety. I have learned that you don’t need a title to make a difference; sometimes, you just need to show up and care. That’s the mindset I bring to golf as well. I didn’t grow up with private lessons or fancy equipment, but I have played when I could, practiced when I couldn’t, and stayed connected to the sport in any way possible. I love the challenge of it, the quiet focus it demands, and the sense of community it creates. Even when I’m not actively playing, I’m always observing and learning—golf is something I hope to keep with me for the rest of my life. Reading about Samuel D. Hartley’s story moved me. He lived a life of service, dedication, and community—values I admire deeply. He served his country, worked hard in every career he pursued, and gave back through his love of golf. To me, that’s the definition of a full life. His legacy is something I would be proud to carry forward. I want to serve my community through medicine, stay grounded through the game of golf, and keep giving back in any way I can. Receiving this scholarship would help lift the financial weight of college and allow me to focus on what matters: learning, growing, and making a difference. I am determined to put myself through school, and every bit of support matters. More than anything, I want to live a life that honors people like Samuel D. Hartley—people who gave everything their all and never stopped showing up with heart. Thank you for considering me.

Tell Us About Yourself and Your Community Involvement My name is Maggie Pritchard, and I am someone who leads with quiet care, determination, and heart. I immigrated to the United States from Canada almost five years ago with my family. My mom is a nurse and, for much of my life, has balanced the role of both parents while my dad works away from home. As the oldest child, I have taken on a lot of responsibility—from helping raise my younger sister to supporting my community. These experiences have shaped me into someone who gives back whenever and however I can. I have been involved in my community in personal, hands-on ways—by babysitting for local families, helping at fundraisers, and supporting events that bring people together. While I haven’t always been part of official organizations or clubs, I show up for my community in meaningful ways. One example that means a lot to me is how I have tried to protect younger children from the dangers of bullying and unsafe online behavior. I have had open conversations with my sister and the kids I care for about how to stay safe online, especially on platforms like Roblox where children are most vulnerable. I teach them to protect their information, block/report strangers, and always come to a trusted adult when something feels off. I also talk to my peers about how we treat each other in school and online—those small, real conversations can make a difference. My Financial Need as I Enter Higher Education As I head into college, I’m preparing to put myself through school entirely on my own. I’ve spent the last few years working hard to build up some savings, but I know it won’t be enough to cover the cost of medical school—a dream I have had for as long as I can remember. My mom, although an incredibly hardworking nurse, supports our household mostly on her own. With limited income, a younger sibling still at home, and little opportunity for outside support, financial aid will be critical in helping me continue my education. Despite these challenges, I remain hopeful and determined. I believe that my hard work now will someday allow me to give back tenfold. I want to be the kind of person who not only treats patients but uplifts entire communities—especially those like mine who have had to fight for every opportunity they could.

My Sunshine in The Darkest Days I never had Ms. Smith as a teacher in the traditional sense. I wasn’t in her class, never turned in assignments to her, and she didn’t grade my work. But that didn’t stop her from becoming the most influential figure in my high school journey. She became my person—the one I ran to when everything felt like too much, when fear tightened in my chest, and when the weight of worry over my sister’s and my safety became unbearable. I’ve always been someone who carries fear quietly—about the world, about things going wrong, about losing the people I love. There was a time when these thoughts overwhelmed me daily, and I felt like I was always bracing for disaster. Ms. Smith was the first adult in school who truly saw that in me. She didn’t dismiss my fear or tell me to “toughen up.” She sat with me. She listened. And when words weren’t enough, she prayed with me—something I hadn’t done in a long time. That moment cracked something open inside me. It reminded me of who I used to be—someone grounded, connected, and hopeful. Because of Ms. Smith, I learned how to be more self-aware. I learned how to pause and breathe before the panic spiraled. I started to feel safe again, not because the world changed, but because I had someone in it who cared enough to be there. My focus improved in class. I stopped spiraling over every little “what if” and started showing up as a version of myself I hadn’t seen in years. This past school year tested all of that progress. A list of schools being targeted for potential shootings began circulating. Some were in my district. My sister’s school was right next to mine. I didn’t want to go. I was terrified. That day, I had two panic attacks and cried three separate times. Every moment felt like it could be our last. But Ms. Smith never left my side. She held space for my fear, comforted me without judgment, and reminded me—again—that I wasn’t alone. Her presence didn’t erase the fear, but it gave me something stronger to hold onto: peace, even in chaos. Ms. Smith didn’t just change how I approach fear—she changed how I approach life. I now know the power of being present for someone else. The way she listened, the way she made me feel seen—I want to be that for others someday. I want to give the same calm and care she gave me. To this day, I visit her class daily, sometimes multiple times. She’s my anchor, my safe place, and honestly—my sunshine in the darkest days. She showed me what it means to lead with compassion, and that’s something I’ll carry with me long after graduation.

Why I’m the Most Gen Z Person Alive My emotional support Stanley (dented, chicken stickers, haunted by mild existential dread) never leaves my side. I doomscroll TikTok at 2am like it’s a full-time job, keep the Notes app as my unpaid therapist (“playlist name: crying in the Uber but make it ✨cinematic✨”), and proudly live rent-free in a Discord server dedicated to cursed fan theories and microwave recipes. My camera roll? A museum of blurry ceiling shots, 14 accidental lock screen screenshots, and pictures of my friends doing absolutely nothing—but you’d have to pry them from my cold, over-stimulated hands. I communicate feelings through a Phoebe Bridgers song and a cursed meme, multitask with 23 open tabs (started researching vitamins, ended up customizing a velvet couch), and have 47+ unread messages I definitely mentally responded to. I say “slay” when the microwave beeps. I reread texts like they’re ancient scrolls of betrayal. My coping mechanism? Making oddly specific playlists and asking questions like “do raccoons have trauma?” at 1am. I once cried over a Google Doc in pajama bottoms during Zoom school while listening to lo-fi like it was wartime. Gen Z isn’t just an era—it’s an entire ecosystem of chaos, comedy, and emotional depth wrapped in a BeReal notification. We’re anxious but hilarious, broke but aesthetic, and held together by memes, vibes, and shared playlists. So yeah—if being the human embodiment of “she’s unwell but funny about it” counts for anything… it’s giving scholarship winner. 💅

I first discovered Sabrina Carpenter during her Disney Channel days on Girl Meets World, and even back then, there was something special about her. She was funny, bold, and had this spark that made you want to watch everything she did. I grew up watching her as Maya Hart—someone who was confident, quick-witted, and completely herself. And over time, I realized that wasn’t just a character. That was Sabrina, too. What I love most about Sabrina’s career now is how she’s been able to grow and evolve while still keeping that same energy. Her music today is clever, fearless, and fun—but if you really listen, you can tell it comes from a real place. She’s taken heartbreak and pain and somehow turned it into these empowering, catchy songs that make you want to scream the lyrics in the car with the windows down. Espresso and Please Please Please are two of my absolute favorites—not just because they’re insanely catchy, but because they feel like anthems for figuring things out and still having fun along the way. One of the biggest things she’s helped me with is self-confidence. Growing up, it’s easy to get caught up in what people think about you, especially in high school. There’s pressure to act a certain way, look a certain way, or tone yourself down to fit in. But watching Sabrina own her personality, her outfits, her lyrics, and just unapologetically be herself—it made me want to do the same. She shows that you can be both playful and powerful. That you can be vulnerable, and still completely in control of your story. Even when people tried to tear her down, especially with the things people said about her personal life, she turned it into music. Instead of letting it ruin her, she made it part of her art. That’s something I really admire because it reminded me that you don’t have to let negativity define you. You can grow from it, laugh about it, and maybe even dance to it. Sabrina Carpenter is more than just someone I like listening to—she’s someone who’s taught me how to feel more comfortable being me. Her songs are on every playlist I make, but more than that, her story is something I carry with me. She started off being known as a Disney girl, but now she’s completely in her own lane—and that’s exactly what I want for myself too.

Billie Eilish’s music has always felt like a safe space for me—a place where I could feel everything without needing to explain it. She puts into words the things I sometimes can’t say out loud. Whether I’ve been dealing with health stuff, heartbreak, or just the weird mess of growing up, Billie’s songs have helped me feel seen. Her music doesn’t pretend things are perfect, and that honesty is what I connect with the most. My top three songs by her—“Happier Than Ever,” “What Was I Made For?” and “idontwannabeyouanymore”—each carry a part of my story, and I’ll never stop being thankful for the way they’ve helped me through. “Happier Than Ever” is the kind of song that hits you in waves. It starts soft and vulnerable, and then it just explodes with all the things you’ve been holding back. That build-up perfectly matches how I’ve felt after being let down by people—especially when I’ve given them the best version of myself. Whether it was dealing with friends who changed or trying to process a relationship that ended in confusion and hurt, this song reminded me that it’s okay to feel angry and to say, “You didn’t treat me right.” It gave me permission to not bottle it all up. “What Was I Made For?” felt like it was written for anyone going through a season of change and feeling totally lost in the process. That was me after I had to give up gymnastics because of scoliosis. I had poured everything into that sport, and suddenly it was just… gone. That song put into words the exact feeling of wondering who you are when the thing you love is no longer yours. But it also gave me comfort. It helped me hold onto the idea that maybe I was made for more, even if I didn’t know what that looked like yet. That kind of hope is soft, but it’s powerful. And then there’s “idontwannabeyouanymore.” This one cuts deep. It reminds me of the quiet moments where I’ve struggled with self-worth, especially when injuries or challenges made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Billie’s voice in this song is so raw—it doesn’t try to cover up the pain. But at the same time, it makes you feel less alone. Like someone else out there gets it. That song helped me be more honest with myself, even on the hard days. What I love about Billie is that she never tries to be perfect. She’s vulnerable, real, and unafraid to sit in the uncomfortable parts of life. That’s what makes her music so powerful. It doesn’t just sound good—it means something. For me, her songs have been like late-night conversations with a best friend I’ve never met, reminding me that I’m not alone in the feelings I carry.

LeBron James is more than just a basketball player to me—he’s someone who has shown what it looks like to push through pressure, stand tall through criticism, and stay true to yourself no matter how loud the world gets. I’ve always admired him, but over the past few years, that admiration has grown into real respect. Watching him break records, play alongside his son, and carry the flag at the Paris Olympics reminded me just how much he’s accomplished—not just for himself, but for so many people who look up to him. I became a fan of LeBron not just because of what he does on the court (though, let’s be real, that’s incredible), but because of the way he carries himself off the court too. He’s opened schools, spoken out about things that matter, and never stopped working hard—whether he’s winning championships or just showing up for his team. That kind of consistency and drive is something I try to carry with me in my own life. It’s easy to cheer for someone who wins. But cheering for someone who stays humble, gives back, and keeps pushing no matter what? That’s even better. Do I think LeBron James is the greatest basketball player of all time? Yes, I do. And not just because of the stats—though those are pretty hard to argue with—but because of the total package he brings. He’s a leader, a teammate, and a role model. He’s been dominating the game for over two decades and somehow keeps finding ways to evolve and stay at the top. Most players slow down. LeBron just keeps redefining what’s possible. The moment that really stuck with me was seeing him play with Bronny. That wasn’t just a cool sports headline—it was a full-circle moment. You could tell it meant everything to him. And it reminded me how powerful it is to dream big and then actually get there. He didn’t just make it for himself—he opened the door wide enough to bring others through, too. That’s why he’s a legend in my eyes. LeBron inspires me to keep going, no matter the setbacks. Whether it’s in school, sports, or just life in general, I think about how he never gave up—even when people counted him out. That mindset has helped me stay focused on my own goals, even when things get tough. I’m proud to be a fan of LeBron James. To me, he’s not just the greatest player of all time—he’s one of the greatest people to ever play the game. His story proves that greatness doesn’t just come from talent—it comes from heart, discipline, and never forgetting where you came from.

My favorite athlete to cheer for on Team USA is Simone Biles, without a doubt. She’s been more than just a gymnast to me—she’s someone I’ve looked up to, someone who helped me believe that even when life doesn’t go the way you planned, you can still find strength and purpose. Watching her compete has meant more to me than I can even explain. I used to do gymnastics when I was younger, and I loved it. But I had to stop because of my scoliosis, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. It felt like I had to give up something I truly loved. That’s why Simone’s story really stuck with me. When she took time off from gymnastics to take care of her mental health and then came back stronger, it reminded me that it’s okay to pause, to take care of yourself, and to start again when you’re ready. She made me feel like even if I couldn’t compete anymore, I could still do something meaningful. After leaving gymnastics, I tried track, but I got injured again. It felt like a never-ending cycle of trying to find my place. Eventually, I found my way to golf, and now it’s something I really enjoy and work hard at. I think Simone helped me believe that changing your path doesn’t mean giving up—it just means finding where you’re meant to be. One of my favorite things used to be watching gymnastics with my grandparents. My grandpa passed away, but I still remember how excited we’d get when Simone came on screen. She was just so powerful, graceful, and fearless. Even though I don’t remember one exact moment that stands out, every time she competed, it made me feel proud, inspired, and honestly just happy to watch her do what she loves. What I admire most about Simone isn’t just her insane talent—it’s her attitude and her perseverance. She’s had to carry so much pressure, and yet she still shows up with grace and honesty. The way she speaks out about mental health, takes care of herself, and still manages to shine shows what kind of person she really is. She’s not just strong because of the flips and medals—she’s strong because of how she carries herself through the tough moments too. Simone has reminded me that strength isn’t always about pushing through no matter what. Sometimes, it’s about knowing when to rest, when to speak up, and when to fight for yourself. That’s something I’ve really tried to hold onto in my own life, especially after dealing with health issues and injuries. She makes me feel like I can still succeed, even if the road looks different than I thought it would. To me, Simone Biles is everything Team USA stands for—hard work, courage, and heart. Cheering for her has meant more than just being a fan. It’s felt personal, like I’ve grown alongside her in my own quiet way. Watching her has helped me keep going, and I’ll always be grateful for that.

I’ve always loved puzzles—not just the ones with pieces, but the ones that make you think. When I discovered The New York Times’ “Connections,” it quickly became my favorite way to unwind. It’s fun, challenging, and surprisingly emotional at times. There’s something about clicking that last group into place that feels like a victory. The game makes me think about how words relate, how meanings shift, and how something simple can suddenly connect in a deeper way. That’s what inspired me to create a puzzle of my own—one that mixes wordplay, personal interests, and emotions. Here’s my 4x4 “Connections”-inspired puzzle grid: Crush, Jam, Break, Burn Grape, Berry, Peach, Lime Blue, Green, Red, Pink Heart, Mood, Soul, Mind At first glance, the words seem scattered. But just like in the game, once you spot the patterns, it all comes together. Each group reflects something I love—music, food, feelings, and language. The first group is about dual-meaning action words: Crush, Jam, Break, Burn. These are all things you can physically do, but they also describe emotional states. You can crush on someone, be in a jam, go through a break, or burn with passion or anger. This set reminds me how language can hold more than one meaning at once—and how closely our emotions and actions are tied together. The second group is all about fruity flavors: Grape, Berry, Peach, Lime. These aren’t just fruits—they’re everywhere in daily life, from lip balm and perfumes to snacks and drinks. I picked these because they remind me of simple joys and that slightly nostalgic feeling of childhood. They’re fun, sweet, and make me smile—just like discovering a surprise connection in the game. Next comes a classic group: colors. Blue, Green, Red, Pink are more than just shades—they’re moods. You feel “blue” when you’re sad, “green” with envy, “red” with anger, and “pink” when you’re blushing or in love. I love how colors are used to express things we sometimes can’t put into words. They add emotion and energy to our lives, and this group captures that. The final category is about parts of the self: Heart, Mood, Soul, Mind. These words reflect the invisible parts of us that shape who we are. I wanted this group to feel a little deeper because I think puzzles aren’t just about being clever—they can be emotional too. These words remind me that even though we can’t always explain how we feel, words help us make sense of it. Making this puzzle reminded me why I love Connections so much. It’s not just about finding the right answers—it’s about discovering patterns, telling stories, and noticing how language reflects who we are. I’m proud of my puzzle because it reflects what I love most: thinking creatively, solving problems, and finding meaning in small things. Whether it’s a game or real life, I believe there’s always a connection—you just have to look close enough to find it.

The first time I saw Wicked, I remember feeling completely overwhelmed—in a good way. It was like someone took all the messy feelings I’d been carrying around and turned them into a story that actually made sense. I wasn’t just watching a musical; I was watching Elphaba, this misunderstood girl who didn’t fit in, stand up for herself and decide that she wasn’t going to shrink just to make other people comfortable. And I just remember thinking, Wow. That’s me. High school can feel like you have to be “perfect” to be accepted—like you need to be pretty, funny, chill, and never too much of anything. And honestly, I’ve always felt like I wasn’t quite what people expected. I’ve been called “too emotional,” “too intense,” or just “too much.” But watching Elphaba sing “Defying Gravity” gave me this weird feeling of confidence. Like… maybe it’s okay to be different. Maybe I don’t have to apologize for being who I am. And then there’s Glinda. At first, she’s everything I thought I had to be—popular, bubbly, super put-together. But as the story goes on, she changes. She starts to care less about being liked and more about doing the right thing, even when it’s hard. That part hit me too, because sometimes we do things just to fit in, but that doesn’t always make us proud of who we are. Their friendship is complicated and real and honestly, it makes me cry every time I hear “For Good.” It’s such a reminder that some people come into your life and completely change you, even if they don’t stay forever. Wicked made me feel okay with not fitting into everyone’s idea of “good” or “perfect.” It taught me that being true to yourself is more important than being accepted by everyone. And yeah, I love the music (like seriously, I scream-sing “Defying Gravity” in the car every chance I get), but it’s more than that. It’s the story. The way it makes you feel brave when the world wants you to play small. With the movie coming out, I’m so excited for more people to experience this story, especially girls like me who feel like they’re always trying to live up to someone else’s idea of who they should be. Wicked helped me start caring less about being liked and more about being real. And honestly, I think that’s the most powerful thing a story can do.

As a huge fan of Love Island, I’m always drawn to the way the show mixes romance, drama, and the challenges that bring out the true dynamics between the Islanders. From the emotional recouplings to the hilarious and sometimes outrageous games, every aspect of the show keeps me on the edge of my seat. For my challenge, I wanted to create something that combines trust, teamwork, and a bit of cheeky fun, all while testing the chemistry and strength of the couples. This is why I present to you: Trust & Tension: Obstacle Showdown. The idea behind the Trust & Tension: Obstacle Showdown is to push the couples to their limits through five obstacle courses. These courses are designed to test how well the partners can communicate, trust each other, and work together. The couple with the most wins at the end gets a private date on the beach, followed by a steamy night alone in a private suite. It’s a mix of competition, flirtation, and a little bit of heat to keep everyone—and the viewers—on their toes. The first obstacle is Blindfolded Guidance. In this challenge, one partner is blindfolded while the other must guide them through a series of obstacles like cones, ropes, and balance beams. The blindfolded partner has to trust their partner’s instructions to successfully navigate the course. This tests both communication and trust under pressure. The couple that completes the course in the fastest time wins this round. Next is the Balloon Between Lips challenge, which is all about coordination and a little playfulness. In this round, couples have to carry a balloon between their lips while maneuvering through a field of tires. No hands allowed! The first couple to make it to the finish line wins. It’s a fun, flirty challenge that adds some laughter to the competition, while still testing how well the couples can work together. The third course is the Coconut Belly Race, a challenge that’s all about body coordination. In this round, the couple must pass a coconut from one partner’s lower belly all the way up to their lips—without using their hands. It’s awkward and hilarious, but it’s also a test of how well the partners can communicate non-verbally. The first couple to successfully complete the task wins. The fourth obstacle is called "Heat Up the Game". In this round, couples must use only their feet to remove pieces of clothing from each other and toss them into a bucket across the course. The couple who collects the most clothing in the shortest time wins. It’s a playful, raunchy challenge that brings the heat while still keeping it fun and lighthearted—just the kind of tension fans love. Finally, the last obstacle is the Buoy Swim. Couples must race to swim to a buoy in the ocean, retrieve a sealed envelope, and race back to shore. The first couple to open the envelope and correctly answer the trivia question inside wins the challenge. This final round adds suspense and excitement, with the ultimate reward of a romantic date and a private night together in a suite. The Trust & Tension: Obstacle Showdown challenge is the perfect mix of physical and emotional tests. It combines trust, communication, and chemistry, all while keeping things fun, flirty, and just the right amount of raunchy. Each round is designed to test a different aspect of the couple’s relationship, from teamwork to trust to the ability to laugh and have fun together. It’s a challenge that has something for everyone, ensuring the Islanders—and the viewers—are entertained from start to finish.

One lyric from Olivia Rodrigo’s GUTS that hits me hard is from "Bad Idea Right?": “I think I forgot to mention / That I’m better off without you.” It’s one of those lyrics that just sticks with you, especially when you’ve been through that frustrating experience of giving everything to someone you thought was “the one”—only for them to turn into someone completely different. In high school, everything feels intense, and relationships feel like they’re either the greatest thing or the worst thing in the world. It’s easy to get wrapped up in someone, thinking they’re your forever, even when they show you who they really are. You get swept up in all the butterflies and the “what-ifs,” and it’s hard to see the red flags until it’s almost too late. I’ve had moments where I was completely sure about someone, thinking they were perfect, and then it all came crashing down. Suddenly, they were acting cold or distant, and you’re left confused, hurt, and wondering what went wrong. That lyric “I’m better off without you” hits me in the gut because it’s that painful, messy realization that, as much as it hurts, you’re actually better off walking away. You think you can’t live without them, but then, out of nowhere, you realize you’ve been wasting so much time trying to make something work with someone who wasn’t even treating you right. That’s when you start to see the truth: they weren’t what you thought they were, and you deserve more than their empty promises or their sudden indifference. It’s so tough in high school to understand that just because you feel something strongly doesn’t mean it’s the right thing. It’s like you pour your heart into someone, thinking they’ll always be there, but people can change, or worse, they can reveal who they really are when it’s too late. And that’s when you finally get it—that gut-wrenching moment where you see that you’re not just holding onto someone else, you’re holding onto the idea of them. But in reality, they don’t fit in your life the way you imagined. As a teenager, it’s hard to wrap your mind around the fact that some relationships aren’t meant to last. I think we all want to believe that every love story we have is special enough to work, but sometimes, the hardest thing to do is admit that it’s not. When Olivia sings about being “better off without you,” it’s like she’s telling us that it’s okay to walk away. It’s okay to let go of someone who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve. And even though it hurts like crazy in the moment, it’s a reminder that you will be okay without them—and sometimes, it’s the only way to heal. I feel like that lyric is a reminder that we can’t let someone’s actions or their mistakes define our worth. We’re still young, still figuring things out, and it’s okay to mess up, to learn the hard way, and to finally realize that not every person who comes into our lives is meant to stay. But what matters is that we learn from it and grow stronger. In the end, we’re better off without people who don’t value us or treat us with the respect we deserve. And even though that’s hard to accept sometimes, it’s something I think we all have to go through to figure out who we really are and what we’re truly worthy of.

For me, the perfect ending to The Bear would show Carmy finally finding peace, not through perfection, but through the people around him. The restaurant, which started as a chaotic mess of broken dreams, would transform into something more than just a business—it would become a real community. Carmy would still have his flaws, his need for control, but he’d learn that he doesn’t have to do it all alone. He doesn’t have to be perfect to be enough. Sydney would have found her own voice and path within the restaurant. She’d no longer be under Carmy’s shadow, but would rise as a leader in her own right—confident and independent. Richie, who’s often been the messier, unpredictable force, would find stability, maybe not in the way he expected, but in a way that suits him. He’d finally feel like he belongs. The most important moment would be between Carmy and his brother, Michael. Their bond has been defined by grief, guilt, and silence. For so long, Carmy has carried the weight of Michael’s death, trying to fix everything but never feeling like he could. In this final scene, Carmy would learn to let go—not of his love for his brother, but of the need to fix the past. He’d realize that sometimes, healing doesn’t come from fixing everything, but from accepting that things can’t always be perfect. The final shot would be Carmy sitting at the counter, surrounded by his team—his chosen family. They’d be sharing a meal, no longer just coworkers, but people who have fought through the chaos together. Carmy, for the first time, wouldn’t be isolated or consumed by his drive. He’d simply be present, at peace with where he’s at. It’s a small, simple moment, but one that shows he’s found something bigger than just success. He’s found connection, belonging, and a family. This ending would be satisfying to me because it feels real. It acknowledges the messiness of life—the pain, the mistakes, the struggle—and shows that those things don’t have to define you. Carmy’s journey has been about learning to trust, learning that he doesn’t have to carry the weight of everything, and that family isn’t about perfection, but about being there for each other, flaws and all. That’s what makes the ending so meaningful: it’s a reminder that sometimes the hardest part of growing is learning that you’re not alone.