在我的记忆中,父亲总是那么的高大,我只能够着他的手。那就扯着父亲的手吧,另一只手则紧捏着撒娇得来的小面人、糖葫芦什么的……就这样拽着,走着,一直到我窜到父亲的耳朵边。我喜欢父亲的手,父亲的手那么大、那么暖和……在我的记忆中,母亲总是那么忙,我只能像个小尾巴跟到这跟到那。到了天黑,母亲又端起一副毛线针,戳呀织呀,两只白皙的手灵巧而欢快地跳动着。这时,我就托 In my memory, my father is always so tall, I can only hold his hand. Then pulled his father’s hand, the other hand is tight squeezed spoiled faceter, what the candied haws ... so tugged, walked, until I went to his father’s ears. I like my father’s hand, my father’s hand is so big, so warm ... In my memory, my mother is always so busy, I can only follow this with a small tail. When it was dark, her mother put on a knitting yarn again, stamped it, and two white hands dexterously and happily beats. At this time, I asked