Sophomore Emerson Harris drives with her mom Amanda after passing her driver’s test on Oct. 16. Photo courtesy of Emerson Harris.

My mom has always been my best friend. We do everything together, tell each other everything and even share clothes. She knows all my problems and is always there for me if anything goes wrong. She even introduced me to my favorite show: Gilmore Girls. We always say we’re just like Lorelai and Rory, obsessed with coffee and boys. But now that I’m the same age as Rory was when the show began, it made me realize just how much I love my mom.

For starters, every year we go on a mother-daughter trip somewhere fun. Last year, we went to Savannah, Georgia, and had THE BEST time. We took a fantastic ghost tour and drank coffee from somewhere local every day. We even stayed in a haunted hotel. This year, though, we went to New Orleans. It definitely wasn’t my favorite trip we’ve ever taken, but it was still enjoyable. We stayed in the historic district and waited together for Taylor Swift to drop Speak Now (Taylor’s Version). She even forced me to watch old movies based in New Orleans. They were so bad (I’m looking at you, Interview With A Vampire) that we ended up watching the movie version of Chicago. Those trips mean the world to me.

She is also incredibly supportive of my many hobbies. If I need her to drive me to theater or cheer or to somewhere for newspaper, I know she’s always ready. Some days are especially chaotic, going from back-to-back activities at lightning speed. But she’s always there, snack in hand and ready for my debrief of the day. Oftentimes, she’ll make me drive us to our next location. She lets me blast Taylor Swift as loud as I want, and we scream-sing the lyrics the whole way there. It’s weird to think that I now have my license and won’t have her there after school to share all the day’s updates. 

Sometimes, I think she gets sad that I’m growing up. I get sad too, but I’m better about hiding it than she is. We talk about visiting colleges, jobs and senior year; and it freaks both of us out. I can’t imagine living somewhere without my mom and not being able to run down the stairs and freak out about some random news together. She keeps me in check and lets me know when to reel in the crazy. She’s my very best friend, and I dread the day I move hours away from her.

As I enter my sophomore year, I look back at the past 16 years of my life and think about how much time I have left before I walk the stage. I think about how I’ll be moving out and be on my own for the first time ever. I think about how I won’t have my mom whenever I want. Sometimes, I wish I were 6 again. That way, I wouldn’t have to worry, and I could just hug my mom.