My Father’s Hands

高歌 浙江外国语学院英文学院2011.05.11

浙江省 2011年高中英语课堂教学评比活动阅读课教学案例

What skills are to be learned?

Inferring

Predicting Questioning the text

Making connections •Text-to-text•Text-to-self

Skimming

Visualizing

Summarizing

Monitoring comprehension

Reading skillsat work

My father’s hands

My Father’s Hands1 ） As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. Two things in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.2) father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌the most beautiful music I ever heard.3) father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 4) father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll. They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.5） Yes, these were the hands of my father. They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. 妈妈死后 When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better. I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible! 6） Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside. But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences. Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought. I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face. How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood! I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man. To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done. I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.7） For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak. I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love, his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.” And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and, sighing one final breath, died quiet.8） As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now: No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

My father’s handsDoes the author love her father? Only a little or very much, most

likely?Why does the author talk about

her father’s hands?How did your father use his

hands to show his love to you when you were young?

1st paragraph

1 As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted 理所当然的 . One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted 理所当然的 . One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted 理所当然的 . One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted 理所当然的 . One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted 理所当然的 . One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted 理所当然的 . One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted 理所当然的 . One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted 理所当然的 . One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

My Father’s Hands1 ） As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. Two things in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.2) father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌the most beautiful music I ever heard.3) father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 4) father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll. They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.5） Yes, these were the hands of my father. They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. 妈妈死后 When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better. I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible! 6） Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside. But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences. Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought. I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face. How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood! I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man. To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done. I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.7） For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak. I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love, his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.” And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and, sighing one final breath, died quiet.8） As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now: No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted 理所当然的 . One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. One thing in particular 特别的 made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

sensitiveAble to understand other

people’s feelings and problems

My English teacher is always sensitive to students’ needs.

OPP: insensitive

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. One thing in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.

Para 1 My father’s hands

Paragraph 2

My father’s hands

2 father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

2 father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim 修剪 the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim 修剪 the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

sashes

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that 1. could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. 2. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. 3. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. 4. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that 1. could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. 2. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. 3. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. 4. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that 1. could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. 2. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. 3. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. 4. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that 1. could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. 2. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. 3. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. 4. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that 1. could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. 2. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. 3. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. 4. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that 1. could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. 2. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. 3. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. 4. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that 第一部分是概括，后面是举例1. could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. 2. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. 3. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. 4. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that 第一部分是概括，后面是举例1. could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. 2. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. 3. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. 4. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that 1. could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. 2. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. 3. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. 4. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that 1. could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. 2. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. 3. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. 4. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.

Nimble fingers

Father’s hands

Nimble fingers

Paragraph 3

My father’s hands

3 father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. 多能They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. 多能They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. 多能They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

Manual 体力 worker(s)

Construction workers 建筑工人

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. 多能They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. 多能They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. 多能They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, 阳刚There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. 多能They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, 阳刚There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. 多能They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, 阳刚wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. 多能They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked.

father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful,wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands.They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 态度

father’s hands were strong and useful

no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands.

loved to watch

father’s hands were strong and useful

no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands.

loved to watch

father’s hands were strong and useful

no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands.

loved to watch

father’s hands were strong and useful no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. 多能loved to watch

Nimble fingers

Strong & useful

My father’s hands

Nimble fingers

Strong & useful

Paragraph 4

My father’s hands

4 father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll. They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll.

They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll.

They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll.

They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll.

They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message when they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll.

They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message when they tenderly touched a

fevered brow or mended a broken doll.

They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a

fevered brow or mended a broken doll.

They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll.

They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll.

They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll.

They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll.

They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered br

ow 额头 or mended a broken doll 娃娃 . They seemed to speak, to understand u

nspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.

father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered

brow or mended a broken doll. They seemed to speak, to

understand unspoken pain and emotional

hurt when I found no way to tell.

Nimble fingers

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

My father’s hands

Nimble fingers

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

BigParagraph 5

My father’s hands

5 Yes, these were the hands of my father. They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better. I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

5-1 Yes, these were the hands of my father. They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better. 5-2 I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

5-1 Yes, these were the hands of my father. They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father.

They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death.

When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love.

It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. They tenderly, untiringly 不知疲倦地 cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. 承上启下They tenderly, untiringly 不知疲倦地 cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. 承上启下They tenderly, untiringly 不知疲倦地 cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. 承上启下They tenderly, untiringly 不知疲倦地 cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. 承上启下They tenderly, untiringly 不知疲倦地 cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. 承上启下They tenderly, untiringly 不知疲倦地 cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. 承上启下They tenderly, untiringly 不知疲倦地 cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. 承上启下They tenderly, untiringly 不知疲倦地 cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. 承上启下They tenderly, 温柔地 untiringly 不知疲倦地 cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father.

They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death.

When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love.

It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father.

They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death.

When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love.

It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father.

They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death.

When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. 承上启下They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. 承上启下They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father. 承上启下They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

What did father do?How did I feel?

Yes, these were the hands of my father.

They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death.

When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love.

It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father.

They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death.

When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love.

It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father.

They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death.

When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love.

It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father.

They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death.

When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love.

It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Yes, these were the hands of my father.

They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death.

When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love.

It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better.

Nimble fingers

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Father’s handsare better

than mother’s

My father’s hands

5-2 I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. Father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury.

My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury.

My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury.

My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury.

My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury.

My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury.

My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible!

Nimble fingers

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Father handsare perfect

My father’s hands

76

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Father’s handswere better

than mother’s

My father’s hands

Nimble fingers

76

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Father’s handswere better

than mother’s

My father’s hands

Nimble fingers

Paragraph 6-7

6 Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside. But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences. Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought. I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face. How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood! I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man. To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done. I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done. I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

What did I do?How did I feel?

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling 回忆 all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling 回忆 all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside.

But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences.

Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought.

I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face.

How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood!

I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man.

To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done.

I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.

Father’s love to me,and how I felt my love

to him

7 For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak. I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love, his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.” And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and, sighing one final breath, died quiet.

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

What did my father do?What did I do?How did I feel?

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

How did I feel?

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak. I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love, his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still ！ Then father closed his eyes and, sighing one final breath, died quiet.

And time stood still ！

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak.

I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love,

his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.”

And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and,

sighing one final breath, died quiet.

6 Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside. But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences. Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought. I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face. How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood! I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man. To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done. I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.7 For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak. I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love, his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.” And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and, sighing one final breath, died quiet.

6 Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside. But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences. Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought. I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face. How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood! I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man. To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done. I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.7 For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak. I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love, his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.” And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and, sighing one final breath, died quiet.

Father & daughter’s love

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Mother’s death Father gave

mother’s love

Father was dying

My father’s hands

Nimble fingers

Father & daughter’s love

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Mother’s death Father gave

mother’s love

Father was dying

My father’s hands

Nimble fingers

Father was dyingFather and daughter’s

love to each other

Father & daughter’s love

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Mother’s death Father gave

mother’s love

Father was dying

My father’s hands

Last paragraph

Nimble fingers

Father was dyingFather and daughter’s

love to each other

8 As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now: No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now:

No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

What did I do?How did I feel?

As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now:

No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now:

No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now:

No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now:

No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now:

No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now:

No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now: No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing 可爱 or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now: No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing 可爱 or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now: No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing 可爱 or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now: No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing 可

爱 or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

Father & daughter’s love

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Mother’s death Father gave

mother’s love

Father was dying

My father’s hands

No mother’s handsbetter than my father’s hands

Nimble fingers

Father was dyingFather and daughter’s

love to each other

Father & daughter’s love

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Mother’s death Father gave

mother’s love

Father was dying

My father’s hands

No mother’s lovebetter than my father’s love

Nimble fingers

Father was dyingFather and daughter’s

love to each other

Father & daughter’s love

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Mother’s death Father gave

mother’s love

Father was dying

My father’s hands

No mother’s lovebetter than my father’s love

Nimble fingers

Father was dyingFather and daughter’s

love to each other

Father & daughter’s love

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Mother’s death Father gave

mother’s love

Father was dying

My father’s Love

No mother’s lovebetter than my father’s love

Nimble fingers

Father was dyingFather and daughter’s

love to each other

What skills have been practiced?

Inferring

PredictingQuestioning

the text

Making connections •Text-to-text•Text-to-self

Skimming

Visualizing

Summarizing

Monitoring comprehension

Reading skillsat work

What skills have been practiced?

间接推导

根据标题预测 就课文提问

找出句子之间的关系

进行轮廓阅读

理解图像化

归纳概括

反思阅读过程

Reading skillsat work

Father’s hands1 ） As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. Two things in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.2) father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.3) father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 4) father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll. They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.5） Yes, these were the hands of my father. They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. 妈妈死后 When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better. I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible! 6） Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside. But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences. Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought. I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face. How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood! I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man. To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done. I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.7） For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak. I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love, his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.” And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and, sighing one final breath, died quiet.8） As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now: No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

Father’s hands1 ） As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. Two things in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.2) father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.3) father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 4) father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll. They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.5） Yes, these were the hands of my father. They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. 妈妈死后 When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better. I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible! 6） Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside. But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences. Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought. I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face. How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood! I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man. To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done. I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.7） For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak. I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love, his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.” And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and, sighing one final breath, died quiet.8） As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now: No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

Father’s hands1 ） As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. Two things in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.2) father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.3) father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 4) father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll. They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.5） Yes, these were the hands of my father. They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. 妈妈死后 When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better. I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible! 6） Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside. But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences. Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought. I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face. How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood! I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man. To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done. I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.7） For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak. I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love, his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.” And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and, sighing one final breath, died quiet.8） As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now: No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

Father’s hands1 ） As father’s devoted 深爱的 and only daughter, I noticed things about him that my two brothers never mentioned or may have taken for granted. Two things in particular made father more wonderful, interesting and capable than all the other fathers I’d ever seen or heard of — father’s large, sensitive hands.2) father had long, nimble 灵巧的 fingers that could thread the smallest needle in order to mend the my dress. They could carefully trim the nails of tiny fingers and toes. Unlike Mama, father could tie straight sashes on my party dresses. Those same fingers had a magical way of playing the guitar, making my nursery tunes 儿歌 the most beautiful music I ever heard.3) father’s inventive hands were also strong and useful, wonderfully tanned from working in the sun, and a bit callused 起茧的 . There was no unfamiliar thing to father’s hands. They could make a delicious and colorful meal in minutes. And I loved to watch in wonder as his skillful hands worked. 4) father’s hands could send a message as they tenderly touched a fevered brow or mended a broken doll. They seemed to speak, to understand unspoken pain and emotional hurt when I found no way to tell.5） Yes, these were the hands of my father. They tenderly, untiringly cared for his children and my mother through her many long illnesses right up until her death. 妈妈死后 When I was sick, father would take a small blanket, warm it in front of the fireplace and wrap it around my small, cold feet with his hands of love. It was obvious to me even then that no mother’s hands could have done better. I can also well remember the old, familiar songs that father sang, as his hands patted me. I would hold one of father’s large hands studying the lines of his hand, feeling its hard spots with pride. father’s nails were always trimmed, although he had a scar 伤疤 in his left thumbnail. This was special and made me love him more because he was building my dollhouse when he acquired the injury. My father’s hands were perfect in my little-girl eyes. They had the strength and power to move mountains. They made the impossible possible! 6） Years later, in a small hospital room as father lay near death, too weak to speak out loud, I sat tearfully at his bedside. But, holding his hands, I smiled, recalling all those happy, important and unforgettable years of shared experiences. Once again feeling every line, every callus and scar, I was amazed at the experience of love that father’s hands had brought. I lifted them, placing the tired, now pale hands against my face. How warm they were even now, just as in my treasured childhood! I kissed each brown spot in the hands of the 83-year-old man. To me they were beauty marks instead, standing for a job well done. I could no longer hold back the tears filling my eyes.7） For a moment, father opened his eyes as if to speak. I leaned over close to him. With a weak, concerned smile of love, his trembling fingers reached up to gently touch my brow, stopping briefly to wipe away the tears now running down the cheeks of his “little girl.” And time stood still. Then father closed his eyes and, sighing one final breath, died quiet.8） As I looked down fondly at the precious, motionless hands of my dear father, I knew one thing for sure then, and I am even more sure of it now: No mother’s hands, in all the world, were ever more endearing or more beautiful than the strong hands of my father.

Father & daughter’s love

Strong & useful

Can talk &understand

Mother’s death Father gave

mother’s love

Father was dying

My father’s Love

No mother’s lovebetter than my father’s love

Nimble fingers

Father was dyingFather and daughter’s

love to each other

Father

My father’s hands

No mother’s lovebetter than my father’s love

Father

My father’s love

No mother’s lovebetter than my father’s love

My Father’s Love

Was taught by Victor GAOvictorg21@126.com

Zhejiang International Studies University

China, Hangzhou5/7/2011