在我十一年的成长生涯中，留下了许多美好的记忆，都存在了我的记忆木匣中，打开它，里面珍藏着许多美好的画面，每一幅画面都是我成长的脚印，每一组脚印都是我的童年往事。

　　In my 11 years of growing up, I have left a lot of good memories, all of which are stored in my memory wooden box. When I open it, there are many beautiful pictures in it. Each picture is my growing footprints, and each group of footprints is my childhood past.

　　忆.幼年

　　Childhood

　　人生如一张纯洁无瑕的纸，总让人忍不住用多彩的画笔在上面尽情涂抹，留下一道道痕迹，写下一段段回忆。听爸爸说，幼时我最喜欢吃小馒头，经常让爸爸从超市成桶成桶的往家买，买回家后，汤匙里放点茶，把小馒头放进去，这样的吃，可能那时就觉得这是人间美味吧!我还爱牵着爸爸的手，在湖边蹦来蹦去，那时总是很快乐。在幼年无忧无虑的年龄，留下一串串小小的脚印，也留下了我无邪的笑脸。

　　Life is like a piece of pure and flawless paper, which can't help but be daubed with colorful brushes, leaving traces and memories. Listen to my father, when I was young, I liked eating small steamed bread best. I often asked my father to buy it from the supermarket in barrels. After I bought it, I put some tea in the spoon and put the small steamed bread in it. Maybe I thought it was delicious on earth at that time. I also loved holding my father's hand and jumping around the lake. I was always happy at that time. In childhood carefree age, leaving a string of small footprints, but also left my innocent smile.

　　忆.童年

　　Childhood

　　人生是一首快乐的诗，总会有人把坎坷和汗水，欢乐与悲伤，凝成一句句多情的话语，留下一份开心，散落点点诗意。童年，我爱坐在爸爸的身上，这张又软又舒适的椅子上，听爸爸一遍又一遍的讲着那些百听不厌的童话故事。我喜欢让爸爸抱着我坐在阳台上，晒着太阳，在这开心中长大，那时我认为爸爸就是天，一片永不坍塌的蓝天，我在爸爸惬意的中年时期，留下一串串顽皮的珍贵脚印，留下我纯真的深深亲昵。

　　Life is a happy poem. There will always be people who condense frustrations and sweat, joy and sorrow into a sentence of passionate words, leaving a happy and scattered little poetic. In my childhood, I loved to sit on my father's soft and comfortable chair and listen to him telling the fairy tales that I could never tire of hearing again and again. I like to let my father hold me and sit on the balcony, basking in the sun, growing up happily. At that time, I thought my father was the sky, a blue sky that never collapses. I left a string of naughty and precious footprints in my father's comfortable middle age, leaving my pure and deep intimacy.

　　忆.少年

　　Young people

　　人生是一曲动听的歌，那些激情与渴望，汇聚成一串串的音符，谱出我们心中的梦想，勾勒出动人的蓝图。我在渐渐长大，老爸也已不再年轻，头上的几丝白发在阳光的映衬下，十分抢眼。老爸不能在一瞬间把我抱起，因为我在渐渐长大。岁月不留人，老爸也已日渐变老，一条条皱纹爬上了爸爸的额头。一切都渐渐逝去，消失的无影无踪，我在这忧伤的时光中成长，在老爸苍颜白发的时期，留下一串串不舍的脚印，留下我惋惜的泪水。

　　Life is a beautiful song, those passion and desire, together into a string of notes, compose our hearts of dreams, outline the blueprint of people. I am growing up, and my father is no longer young. The white hair on my head is very eye-catching against the sun. Dad can't hold me up in a moment because I'm growing up. Years do not stay, dad has gradually old, a wrinkle climbed up his forehead. Everything gradually passed away, disappeared without a trace, I grew up in this sad time, left a string of reluctant footprints and tears of regret in my father's gray hair period.

　　我把这只木匣锁起来，它将成为我最珍贵的回忆。

　　I lock this wooden box, it will become my most precious memory.

编辑:Liuxuepaper.Com