When we dropped off our daughter at the airport in January for her semester abroad in Paris, I took a picture as she walked through the TSA security line, and my heart felt caught in my throat.

We would be separated by an ocean and 4,000-plus miles for more than four months — our longest stretch of time apart since she was born. When I was a college student nearly 30 years ago, I had benefited enormously from my own semester abroad in Egypt.

I was excited for her to go on this adventure. Living independently in a foreign country teaches a young person so many life skills, along with broadening one’s perspective and understanding of the world. I wanted her to gain the same kind of confidence I felt when I realized I could thrive in a place completely unfamiliar and far from home.

At the same time, I was more anxious about her being so far away than I cared to admit. Each milestone of raising children to self-sufficient adulthood requires more letting go. As parents, we nudge our children outside their comfort zones, as we are pushed outside our own.

The world — and how we raise children in it — has changed radically over the past three decades. When my parents waited for me to board my flight to Cairo from Houston, they had no way of contacting me once I left. I would have to navigate a couple of flight transfers over more than 20 hours of travel, figure out how to get to my dorm, buy an international calling card, find a pay phone and let them know I had landed.

My university did not have an official program where I was headed, but I was determined to study the history and politics of the Middle East. I enrolled as a student at the American University in Cairo. We did not know a soul in Egypt. I did not speak Arabic. But like so many Gen Xers, I assumed I would figure it out along the way.

Meanwhile, my daughter had studied French for nine years before leaving. We had given her the names of several local contacts in Paris. Technology allowed us to FaceTime or text her at any moment. She had access to our credit cards; I had a few hundred dollars to my name when I was abroad.

Why did my immigrant parents have more courage sending their 20-year-old daughter off into the world than I did? Perhaps their own experiences as young adults leaving everything and everyone behind and flying across the world to start new lives gave them that resilience and perspective. The generation prior, their parents, had fled India in far more precarious circumstances during Partition to also start over in a brand-new country, Pakistan.

Studying abroad is a luxury; fleeing a country is survival.

My parents relied mostly on letters to stay in touch with their families when they first came to America. The promise of a weekly phone call from their daughter was an improvement from Aerograms. Plus, my generation grew up with more responsibility and less hands-on parental involvement. Expectations for parents have evolved in ways that have made our children more reliant on us and us more involved in the details of their lives.

I called my mom after dropping my daughter at the airport and asked her how she handled the months apart and so little contact. She told me that as we were sitting at the gate at the Houston airport when boarding began, I said to her, “Why did you let me do this? I’m scared.”

“Like we could stop you from something you had set your mind to do,” she said.

As much as times have changed, some of our experiences while studying abroad were familiar. As students, my daughter and I both hit unexpected hurdles. I developed bronchitis and felt clueless navigating the Egyptian medical system. My daughter’s iPhone was snatched from her hand outside a train stop. I was overly ambitious in my course selection, taking too many classes in Arabic. The airline lost our daughter’s luggage for days after she landed.

We both learned to figure it out.

Our daughter became fluent enough in French to give a presentation on a sustainable development project to a local city council member. I learned enough Arabic to hail a cab, ride the bus and order food from any café.

In our respective cities, we spent days visiting museums, absorbing the art and history surrounding us, talking to strangers, eating unusual and delicious meals and immersing ourselves in a different way of living. Unlike life in the American suburbs, in Paris and Cairo we were surrounded by stunning architecture and masses of humanity.

At the airport, I recalled the confidence and ease with which my parents sent me off.

I did my best to follow their lead.

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