Christmas was near a season that we took seriously in our house. But a week or so before the 25th, my father would give each of his children﹩20. This was the 1970s, and﹩20 was quite a bit of money.
But I saw it 1. My father trusted me to have the2to spend money wisely. Even better, he gave me the 3to get it. On a very basic level ,my father was giving me a shopping spree(狂欢)every year. But he was also giving me charge over my own fun, trusting my ability to manage money and making me feel like a/an4. He didn't buy me Sherlock Holmes, but he gave me the means to walk into the bookstore and choose it for myself, so it felt like a gift from him.
My mother had a/an 5 for giving me what I needed, usually right at the moment I needed it most. This was when I was 25, I 6 at being an adult on my very first try. I had quitted my 7job but had no new one. But when my mother paid me a visit, I 8a good show, telling her I had started my own company.
My mother knew that I was trying hard and failing at that time. It wasn't until 9she left that I noticed at the foot of my bed an envelope thick with 10 . She knew how 11I needed it. She knew that had she just shown up with groceries,or offer to pay my rent, she would have made me feel much 12. The cold,hard cash meant she was helping me. And, funnily enough, the 13with which she gave the gift felt like she was giving me space to 14my life and preserve my dignity. My mother and father both did the same thing. One was giving me the means to take my own decisions,and the other was giving me a second 15when those decisions had cost me dearly.