i am a child
- This is a preview of the essay.
To view the full text you must login!
I am content with my childhood. I'll never forget the picture when my mother took me to the nearby park, hugging me in her bosom; when my father picked me up everyday by his shabby bicycle from the kindergarten. In my eyes, it's the warmest bosom and it is the greatest bicycle in the world. However, with my age growing, something changed, I became more and more silent and reserved, never pick any top for family discussion. Less active asking but more passive answering. Noticing my mother's grey hairs increased day by day, I was heartbreaking but said nothing. In some cases, I even forgot the necessary concern to their health, and I had myself isolated. I hate myself but was powerless to change the situation. Presently, we even had some conflicts on our different minds. Since my family has the tradition of making paper money for my lost grandparents every year (actually, most families do)...