Write a detailed essay of 200 words on my father.

Looking at my father, he seems to always be so tall; looking at my father, his shoulders seem to always be so safe; looking at my father, his face seems to always be so kind; looking at my father, his face seems to always be so kind; Looking up at my father...I don’t know since when, looking up at my father has become a habit of mine.

Such a parallelism sentence should not be used at the beginning of a composition about family relationships. You can start writing directly from the following.

When I was a child, I was my father’s follower. At that time, I was very active and couldn't sit still for a moment. I only knew how to play with my father everywhere. I held my father's big and warm hands tightly with my little hands. I felt the warmth of my father's palms warming me, and I didn't want to let go. open. Two round eyes looked at his father's back from time to time. Although my father is not very tall, even a little short and a little fat, he is straight and full of confidence and strength. Looking up at my father's back, I now feel full of security. I feel that even if the sky falls, my father will be able to carry it for me. A surge of confidence surged in my heart, and I even raised my head unconsciously.

The calendar at home was torn out page after page and replaced one after another. I was full of confidence behind my father. After a few years of going crazy, I gradually left my father's side and made a group of friends of my own. Naturally, my friends replaced my father, and I spent my time little by little. In my friend's body, I forgot my father.

Looking up, I found my father. I imitated how I was when I was a child, but suddenly I found that my father was no longer what he used to be - my father was old! In my memory, my father's body was always upright at that time. He could no longer bear the burden of life and was slightly hunched. His back, which was always full of confidence, was weakened by the trivial things in life and looked slightly slender. A little hunchbacked. When he walked past me, he reminded me of the fallen leaves in the autumn wind. When I hold my father's hand again, is it still the hand I am familiar with and the hand I miss? It was a pair of hands that were completely unfamiliar to me. The shocking bulging veins on my hands hurt my soul, and the thick calluses on my palms vibrated my soul.

Yes, I am growing up and my father is getting older. My eyes were moist and my nose was sore. My father used his love, his health, and everything else to buy me everything I have today, but he never complained. During our adolescence, we were a little rebellious, which created a generation gap between the two generations, and we rarely had time to talk to him. But my father was working silently for us, and his back looked a little lonely. Maybe he didn't expect anything. Watching my growth, he felt comforted by the lack of words. This was the happiest thing for him. As a daughter, how much have I done for my father? Even if I talk to him, I always say that I don’t have time.

Looking up at my father again, I know that my father’s contribution to me and his love for me are worthy of my life to look up and repay. In my heart, my father’s figure has a role that no one can surpass. height.