Growing up, I understood one thing about my dad: He knew everything. In my teen years, he taught me things I’d need to know to survive in the real world: how to drive a stick shift, how to check the car tyre’s (轮胎) pressure, and the correct knife to use to cut a cantaloupe.
When I moved out on my own, I called him at least once a week, usually when something broke in my apartment and I needed to know how to fix it: the toilet, the air-conditioning, the wall, once, when I threw a shoe at a terrifying spider.
But then, eventually, I needed him less. I got married, and my husband had most of the knowledge I lacked about gutter (排水沟) cleaning and water heaters and nondestructive insect removal. For everything else, we had Google. I didn’t know when it happened, but our conversations turned into six words when I called. Me: “Hi, Dad.” Him: “Hi, sweet. Here’s Mom.”
I loved my dad, of course, but I wondered at times if maybe he had already shared everything I needed to know. Maybe I’d heard all his stories. Maybe, after knowing a man for 40 years, there’s nothing left to say. Then, two summers ago, my husband, our four kids and I moved in with my parents for three weeks while our house was being painted. They owned a lake house, and my dad asked me to help him rebuild the bulkhead (舱壁). It was a hard and manual job. We got wet and sandy. But as we put the new bulkhead together piece by piece, my dad knew exactly what went where. I looked at him, “How do you know how to build a bulkhead?” “I spent a summer in college building it on the Jersey Shore.”
“You did?” I thought I knew everything about my dad, but I never knew this. I realized that maybe it’s not that there’s nothing left to say. Maybe it’s just that I’ve spent my life asking him the wrong questions. That day, my dad talked about what he had learned and what he could do excitedly. We chatted and chatted for a long time.
A few weeks later, after my family and I moved back into our painted house, I called my parents. “Hi, sweets,” he said. “Here’s Mom.” “Wait, Dad,” I said. “How are you?” We ended up talking about everything he was working on. To anyone else, it would sound like a normal conversation between a dad and his daughter. But to me, it was novel and a new beginning. I spent the first part of my life needing to talk to my dad. Now I talk to him because I want to.
4. Why did the author feel that she needed to call her dad before she got married?
A.She called to make sure he was pleased. | B.She wanted to talk to him for knowledge. |
C.She knew her parents missed her so much. | D.She was asked to call him once a week. |
5. Why hadn’t the author got something to talk with her father before she moved back to be with him?
A.Her father was old and he didn’t keep up with the world. |
B.Her father always thought he was right in everything. |
C.She didn’t have more to learn from him than she thought. |
D.She spent her younger ages asking him too many questions. |
6. What does the father’s answer “Hi, sweet. Here’s Mom.” mean?
A.The author’s mother is answering the phone. | B.The author’s mother knows what has happened. |
C.He will give the phone to the author’s mother. | D.He finds the author’s mother sweet and kind. |
7. Which of the following words best describe the father?
A.Creative and faithful. | B.Selfless and brave. |
C.Inspiring and generous. | D.Loving and experienced. |