When I was 19, determined not to spend my last teenage year in a suburb in Buckinghamshire, I took off with an Australian friend. We travelled around Europe for months. We stayed in the 1 accommodation we could find due to a lack of money and only 2 bread, cheese and the occasional bottle of red wine.
That was in 1990, a time before mobile phones and the Internet appeared, when the primary 3 our home was the collection of 4 from the post office.
Before I left, Mom had made me a money pouch（荷包）to wear around my neck. She'd also made me two sleeping sheets so I could 5 unclean bedding. She didn't want me to go, and those gifts were her way of telling me to have a wonderful time.
It's only now, as my 18-year-old daughter is preparing to leave on her own gap-year（间休年）trip, that I have more 6 what Mom felt.
Doing multiple jobs and saving money, my daughter has researched on her own where to stay, how to 7 and what to do when she arrives. Therefore, she 8 asks for my opinion and I find myself 9 unsure of whether I should intervene（介入）or back off. I want to be supportive but not too 10 . I want to be cool but not indifferent. I want to be like the perfect travel guide.
When she first mentioned a gap-year travel, I was encouraging, expecting her to have her own experiences that will 11 her. As I had mine, I didn't let myself speak too long on the idea of her not being here. Soon there will just be me, my son and the cat in our house. However, I am not quite 12 that. But the trip may benefit her. This is not in 1990 and I am not 13 at home waiting for a（n）14 . I have promised not to 15 her with messages, but at least I know she can contact me whenever she wants to.
