There are moments in life where everything comes full circle, and last week, one of those moments landed squarely in my lap — or, more accurately, on the stage of a professional esports arena.

Linus got to visit a project I worked on: the Riot Games Arena, a space where professional players will compete in his favorite game, Valorant. Seeing it in person was surreal enough, but having my kid there made it something else entirely.

This project started back when we were still in New York. It wasn’t just another gig — it was the kind of work that shaped the next chapter of our lives. Designing and building the arena was, in many ways, the gateway to Berlin, the city we’d eventually call home. Every sketch, every super early video call, every detail we agonized over had led to this: a physical space that now feels alive, vibrant, and, for a few brief hours, ours to share.

Walking through the arena with Liney was incredible. I showed him the lights, the player booths, the production areas — the machinery and magic that turn this into a professional stage. And then we got to stand on the stage itself. Watching him take it all in — the sound of the boards beneath our feet, the bright screens, the empty seats that one day will be filled with cheering fans — was unforgettable.

He loved it, obviously. There was that perfect mix of awe, excitement, and curiosity that kids have when they realize they’re somewhere they’ve only ever imagined. I think he may have even felt a little of the same pride I felt, seeing something I helped create come to life.

It’s rare that work and family intersect in a moment so vivid. This wasn’t just a project for me anymore, and it wasn’t just a game for him — it was a shared memory, a point where our worlds met. Standing together on that stage, talking about pixels, angles, and strategy, I realized something simple: the things we build, professionally or personally, are even more meaningful when the people we love get to experience them too.

We left the arena that day buzzing — him imagining the tournaments, me thinking about how far we’ve come. And for a few hours, the lights, the screens, and the empty seats weren’t just part of a project. They were ours.