Riding in the Car with My Teenage Daughter

There are many ways to measure growth. We may hang an oversized ruler on a wall and mark different milestones in a child's life. We may keep track of stats from doctor's visits. We may take pictures every year in front of a birthday cake. Yet sometimes we don't even recognize the growth in the child sitting beside us day in and day out. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, it just happens.

One morning on the way to school, I happened to glance at my daughter, sitting in the passenger seat. Long brown hair, long eyelashes, hazel eyes fixed ahead - the same eyes that had just been rolling at me moments before. The scowl that had been on her face replaced by a smile as she started singing aloud to the song coming from her phone, which, these days, is never far from her hand.

I'm not sure when she evolved from the little girl in pigtails in her carseat in the back to this young woman suddenly sitting beside me. Long gone are the days of listening to Dora the Explorer songs on repeat. Gone are the days of looking in the rearview mirror to see her tiny hands grasping her white blanket, sparkling eyes and cute smile peeking back at me. Gone are the car rides filled with singing ABCs, playing games, and listening to stories of what she did at preschool instead of taking a nap.

These days, I find that many of our car rides are spent in silence or punctuated only by the music coming from my daughter's phone. I ask questions that yield one word answers, and then her attention is diverted elsewhere to anything more captivating than a mom trying to make conversation. I know that this is part of being a teenager, but I don't think I was prepared for this measure of growth. I miss that little voice in the back seat.

Just as I did when she was younger, I have started to truly cherish these car rides, though on a different level. I'm not sure that the fact that she is growing up has ever been more evident to me than it is right now. We may not discuss the day in the same detail as her younger self would allow, but we are together. One day all of her possessions won't be strewn througout my car - it will be empty. One day we won't be arguing about homework or dinner or what she forgot at home. One day I won't be driving her to and from activities, constantly in a rush. The next time I get frustrated because I find trash under the front seat or have to drive back and forth across town, I need to stop and remind myself that this stage of her life is just another mark on the continuing growth chart that I will look back on with wonder as to how it filled so fast.

Regardless of how many eye rolls or exasperated huffs I get, I have come to appreciate my teenager's current love language. After many rough morning starts, most of our rides start with, "Any song requests?" and then the rest of our ride is spent sharing a very diverse range of music that inevitably brings us both to a common ground where we don't have to speak to know that the love is there. She may not tell me in words, but I can usually gain insight into her emotions from her music choice of the day. I may not be able to make her belly-laugh like I could when she was little, but my car rapping skills never fail to bring a smile to her face. And if nothing else, we start and finish our day together, just the two of us.

So until the day comes when she gets into her own car and drives away, I'm going to let my no-longer-little-girl push play and sit back and enjoy the music.