Write a detailed description essay on my father 200 words

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

Such a prose sentence should not be used in the beginning of the essay on writing affection, you can write directly from the following.

In my childhood, I was my father's follower. At that time, I was particularly active, a moment can not be idle, only know to follow my father to play around, small hands tightly pulled the father's pair of broad and warm hands, feel the warmth of my father's hand warmed me, do not want to let go. Two round eyes from time to time look at the father's back. Father is not very upright, even a little short, a little fat, but straight, full of confidence and strength. Looking up at the father's back, now feel change full of security, think even if the sky down, also have father can carry for me. The heart of a surge of confidence, and even unconsciously raised his head a little.

The calendar at home has been torn page after page, and replaced by a book after a book. Behind my father, full of confidence, after a few years of madness, I gradually left my father's side, and made a group of friends belonging to their own, naturally, friends instead of my father, my time is also a little bit of time to spend in the body of the friends, but I forgot about my father.

Lifting my eyes, I found my father. I followed the example of the hours, but suddenly realized that my father was no longer the same as before, - my father is old! Father then in the memory of the body is always straight, has long been unable to withstand the burden of life and slightly bent hunchback, always confident back, but by the life of trivial fragments of small things to wear away the sharpness, appear slightly hunchback. When he walked past me, it reminded me of the falling leaves in the autumn wind. When I took my father's hand again, was it still the hand I knew and missed? It was a pair of hands that were completely unfamiliar to me. The hand of the shocking raised tendons hit my heart, the thick callus on the palm of the hand trembled my soul.

Yes, I am growing up and my father is getting old. My eyes are moist and my nose is sore. Father with his love, his health, his everything for me in exchange for today I have everything, but never complain. Adolescence, we have some rebellion, so that the two generations have more generation gap, very little time to talk with him. But my father in silence for us toiling, his back is slightly lonely, perhaps he does not expect anything, watching me grow up, not good at words he felt comfort, this is his happiest thing. As a daughter, how much have I done for my father? Even talk to him, but always say there is no time.

Looking up at my father again, I know that my father's dedication to me, his love for me, deserves a lifetime of looking up to me, to return, in my heart, my father's figure has a height that makes it impossible for anyone to exceed.