在我的记忆中,妈妈是最爱我的人。从我小时候起,好像一直是妈妈牵着我的小手,伴我慢慢成长。爸爸在家的时间不多,印象中的他总是板着脸孔,叫人不敢亲近。我们交谈不多,他问我问题,我总是三言两语应付了事,他见我答得漫不经心,便不再问。不知不觉中,本该亲密无间的父女俩竟变成了最熟悉的“陌生人”。去年国庆节放假时,语文老师要求我们买一些作文书以提高写作水平。我拿着妈妈给的钱刚要出门,一个粗粗的 In my memory, mom is the one who loves me the most. From my childhood, it seems that my mother has been holding my little hand and growing up with me. Dad’s time at home is not much, the impression he always board his face, that people are not close. We talked very little. He asked me questions. I always had a few words to deal with. When he answered my questions, he would not ask any more. Unconsciously, the intimate father and daughter should have become the most familiar “stranger ”. Last year National Day holiday, the language teacher asked us to buy some composition books to improve writing skills. I took the money my mom just want to go out, a crude