My daughter Cameran was an easy baby and an even easier child. She slept through the night and often carried a book at daycare, even while she was playing. Books held special meaning for both of us. As a toddler, she’d back into my lap and say, “Read a book,” before she could form full sentences.
Our shared love of reading brought us together, making us both bibliophiles. People would comment, “She really is your daughter,” as she went off to read. Our connection felt easy, an extension of interests and lineage. Our love of books grew into a shared interest in true crime shows.
This perhaps somewhat macabre obsession strengthened our relationship when middle school rolled around. With middle school came chaos: for her, friendship trouble, and for me, career changes. But each night we’d connect doing homework or watching “Criminal Minds.” Our dark, biting humor made true crime a natural fit and another shared connection.
Each night she’d ask, “You ready to watch?” We’d grab snacks, sit together, and watch an episode. At the end, she’d say, “Let’s just watch the beginning to see what happened.” We made it through 13 seasons.
Our relationship changed over time, and growing apart hurt
High school brought a new phase. Cami started her freshman year during the pandemic. The transition was tough. She disliked online learning. When her school went hybrid, she struggled again to find her footing, jostling between home and in-person learning.
Those years were tough. We tried to stay close, but distance grew. Nights of “Criminal Minds” and daily check-ins turned into arguments and miscommunication. I worried about surviving the next few years.
Parents of adult children told me that the teen years were tough. Teens test boundaries. Parents push back — out of fear and love. Teens want freedom. We want them safe. Sometimes, those needs clash. They certainly did for us.
“They’ll come back to you,” a friend said. She had survived the teen years. “They mature.” Her bond with her own daughter had deepened over time. It had become a friendship.
I held out hope, but each day, we navigated one issue after another. I was afraid things wouldn’t work out for us as they had for others.
The other parents were right — they do come back
In her late teens, as my daughter moved from high school into early adulthood, our relationship evolved once again. Change came slowly, but we started talking more and spent several summer evenings gardening together.
It felt like she finally understood — I only wanted to help her. I realized something, too. Sometimes, she just couldn’t let me. She had to experience things herself. Even if that meant making mistakes.
This year has been a turning point. As Cami gets ready to graduate with her two-year college degree, Friday movie nights are our new tradition. She brings her dog, and we cook, work out, and laugh together. Our bond goes beyond mother-daughter. We are friends.
When Cameran recently moved in with her boyfriend, we found even more to share — talking about jobs, bills, and life over the phone and at lunch.
Now that my daughter is preparing to leave for Arizona to finish her forensic psychology degree, I know things will change again. I’ll miss our Friday movie nights, but I’m grateful we reconnected and became friends. I can’t wait to visit for an Arizona movie night.
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