Miss

Chapter 1: Few memories of family                                             The sunset gently dropped, dyed yellow the old walls in the small room. I sat quietly by the window, my eyes wandering over the yard in front of the house. Family memories slowly come back, like old, faint but no less deep videos. The first image appeared was her mother's face, a small woman with sad eyes. I remember my mother through the times she was busy in the small kitchen, her hands agile and worked non -stop. She did not say much, but every gesture, her eyes exuded dedication and unconditional love for the family. The fragrance of the dishes that the mother cooked still lingers in my mind, as a piece of unable to fade in family memories. Dad is different, he rarely stays at home, often goes to work early in the morning and only returns when it is dark. He was a quiet person, and was somewhat strict, but I still remember the times he taught me how to fix the furniture in the house. Dad did not show affection through words, but through small daily actions. I still remember the two times my father and I sat together at the desk, the weak yellow light shone on his thoughtful face. Those moments, though short, have left me with a deep impression on father and son feelings. My family is not rich, but always full of laughter and joy. I remember the evening of the whole family gathered together, eating together, telling each other the stories that happened during the day. No matter how difficult life is, family meals are always cozy and full of love. But then, over time, those memories also gradually became faint, as traces were erased by the continuous flow of time. The greater I grew, the more I realized that what I remembered about my family really didn't really. Memories of mother, father, about childhood days seem to have been covered by the dust of time and the chaos of life. But whenever I remembered, I always sparked an indescribable feeling. Those are short but meaningful moments, small pieces but creating the whole picture of the family in my heart. Every time I closed my eyes, those images appeared, like an old film that was rewinded. Although it is no longer clear, they are still enough for me to remember what has made myself, about the values that I have received from my family. And although memories may be faded over time, but the affection for the family is always a smoldering flame in the heart, never turning off.