本以为,我与爸爸之间的记忆是用零碎、冰凉的黑白棋子拼凑成的,其实不然,那黑白棋子应是牛奶味和浓巧克力味混合的糖果。一盏微微伏身的台灯,一张被人擦得很干净的书桌,好多摞外形四四方方,内容丰富的书本,一个正在为数学题而绞尽脑汁的我。因为作业很多(可能是对我来说),所以我每天都会写到很晚,这时候爸爸也刚好拖着疲惫不堪的身子回家。他每次都会来我房间坐下,看着我写作业。相对于我和妈妈,我和他之间话少得可怜。我对“女 This thought, my memory with my father is a piecemeal, cold black and white pieces pieced together, it is not true, that black and white pawn should be a mixture of milk-flavored and rich chocolate candy. A slightly covered desk lamp, a desk that was polished by people, lots of boxy, informative books, a book that I was racking my head about math problems. Because I had a lot of homework (probably for me), I wrote it very late every day, and my father just went home exhausted. He will come to my room and sit down every time, watching me write homework. Compared with me and my mom, I and his words are pitiful. I am ”female