Closeness – and how and where it grows

When my youngest daughter was alive, I knew we had an unusually close relationship for a mother and daughter. Since she died, I have come to realize it was extraordinarily close.

People often assume that we got along so well because she was my youngest, but that has little to do with it. Yes, when we moved to Richmond, her older sisters were school age and Lanie was only two. So we did have plenty of one-on-one time on school days, exploring our new home.

But we went on to bond in so many more ways after those early days in Richmond. For one thing, the very act of exploration was a favorite pastime for both of us. We shared a restlessness, a love of trying new things, going new places and meeting new people. We wandered down paths and hiked unfamiliar trails to the point of exhaustion – perpetually driven to find out what was around the next bend.

Both of us bored easily with routine and sameness. In one moment that stands out in my mind, Lanie was about six years old, and sighed that it was high time the family take a trip – or that she at least go on a sleepover at a friend's.

"I'm tired of sleeping in my own bed!" she announced in exasperation.

"Lanie, I know exactly what you mean," I responded.

As she got older, her craving for change and excitement developed into the desire to accompany me to sporting events and history tours, and to sample cuisine at restaurants, gourmet grocery stores and local festivals.

At home, her passion for experimenting with recipes evolved into a full-flown foodie obsession – and a teen chef title that earned her a year at a New York culinary school.

Once she was legal age, we visited wineries and craft breweries in addition to restaurants. I learned to expect a call on her days off from work, suggesting an excursion to a wine tasting or a food fest – the more exotic and ethnic the food, the better.

Car talk
But adventures didn't have to be food- or drink- related to excite Lanie. One of my fondest memories is of the day she jumped into my old Ford Explorer to cheer exuberantly as the odometer rolled over – then helped me decorate the windows with the celebratory slogan, "I've been around the block: 300,000 miles!"

Yes, Lanie and I just plain got each other in so many ways.

But when I contemplate the reasons we grew so close, it wasn't so much the shared personality traits as the quality of our interactions during a crucial stage –her adolescence.

During middle school and high school, Lanie attended magnet schools relatively far from home. I would drive her to school on my way to work and pick her up most days after school or practice.

Although there were mornings that Lanie was grumpy and uncommunicative, these were relatively rare. Cars are such a great place for parents and kids to talk, for two reasons. One, the kids are a captive audience and have no escape route; and two, no one has to make eye contact – so it's easier to tackle difficult topics.

And if Lanie was occasionally quiet or moody in the mornings, that was never the case in the evenings. She would either be elated about something that happened at school or sports, or annoyed or frustrated about something. And a half hour car ride was too long to hold it all in.

When she was in high school, we added a weekly ritual at Legend Brewing's Tuesday night movies. The films began at 8:30 – perfectly coordinating with her after-practice pick-up time. Over dinner, we would bond watching everything from her favorite Indiana Jones classics to cheesy old horror flicks. We laughed at comedies and cried together over Cinema Paradiso. And we talked about each film the whole way home.

Savor the time
The priceless hours we spent riding together are just one reason (aside from the serious safety issues) that I am wholeheartedly against teenagers driving, and always advise parents to hold off on the license until at least age 18.

At 16, kids may be on the cusp of adulthood – but they are still children, and still in need of adult influence and supervision. Conversations that take place in cars during those last busy years of high school may be among the last talks parents share with their kids.

I missed out on those same experiences with my other daughters, who rode the bus to school. And when my oldest daughter got a car her senior year, I saw even less of her. I joked that once she went off to college in nearby Charlottesville, we had more time together.

So I would not trade my seven years in the car with Lanie for anything – especially now that she is gone. It was not the only reason we were so close – but it sure did cement the closeness that we had to start with.