Write an essay Childhood memories with my father in word limit of 200to 250.
Answers
Answer:
As I prayed in the dimly lit church, the swirling smoke arising from incense took my mind back to my childhood years. The golden rays from the sun during the sunset hour did not seem as resplendent, bright, and cheerful as they usually were. The warm late afternoon air got cooler with the soft winds. The cool tropical breezes always brought healing and yielded a new desire to live despite all the problems. Sundown was on its way and summoning many birds to their lovely nests.
At the corner our backyard, my father was making a multi-colored paper and bamboo kite for me. He said, "Stay here and watch me make your kite fly high." One upright hand held the kite over his shoulder. The other hand was close to his abdomen and clutched the ball…show more content…
When I was down, he was sad; wh en I was up, he was happy for me.
I will never forget the days I was sick. My persistent coughing made my father wake up in the middle of the night to check on me. He was worried and felt for my temperature on my forehead whenever I coughed or took a deep sigh. Whenever he felt my head wa s sweaty and feverish, he would immediately flip lights on and tiptoe to grab a thermometer. He gently asked me to open my mouth, so he could measure my temperature. While waiting for the thermometer to register, my father used a towel to wipe off my swea t with worry. Then "Beep...beep..." my temperature read 104 degrees. "I must take you to the hospital now," he said. He hardly slept a wink during my illness. His eyes grew wide open and glistened with happiness when I got better.
Coming home after a few days in the hospital, I was surprised to find my father welcomed me home with fragrant and dazzling violet carnation decorating my room.. This flower and its color are symbols for love and faithfulness. That was our favorite flower. I especially liked it for its smell, but my father liked its color. I didn't understand why he was so obsessed with such a melancholy color. When I was a little girl, he taught me how to draw. One day, I drew a violet carnation and showed it to him. He praised me, "It is very nice. You did a good job." He made me feel like I was a fine artist. I was happy and gave him a hug.
Explanation:...
Explanation:
When I think back to my childhood memories of my father, I remember most his thirst
for learning, his reverence for books and the written word, and the way that he shared and
transmitted his commitment to knowledge. I picture my father sitting at the head of the
dinner table, my mother always seated to his right. Joining us would be companions
from many walks of life, scholars, diplomats, artists, students. My father would lead the
discourse on a topic of interest, often with historical and cultural roots. During the
conversation, he would call to me: “Justin, go get the Encyclopedia Britannica. Let’s
read about the medieval history of the Illyrian city of Dubrovnik.” Then we would read
aloud from the volume and carry on our discussion.