Each time I see a balloon, my mind flies back to a memory of when I was a six-year-old girl. It was a rainy Sunday and my father had recently died. I asked my mom if Dad had gone to heaven. "Yes, honey. Of course." she said.

    "Can we write him a letter?"

    She paused, the longest pause of my short life, and answered, "Yes."

    My heart jumped. "How? Does the mailman go there?" I asked.

    "No, but I have an idea." Mom drove to a party store and returned with a red balloon. I asked her what it was for.

    "Just wait, honey. You'll see." Mom told me to write my letter. Eagerly, I got my favorite pen, and poured out my six-year-old heart in the form of blue ink. I wrote about my day, what I learned at school, how Mom was doing, and even about what happened in a story I had read. For a few minutes it was as if Dad were still alive. I gave the letter to Mom. She read it over, and a smile crossed her face.

    She made a hole in the corner of the letter where she looped the balloon string. We went outside and she gave me the balloon. It was still raining.

    "Okay, on the count of three, let go. One, two, three."

The balloon, carrying my letter, darted upward against the rain. We watched until it was swallowed by the mass of clouds.

Later I realized, like the balloon, that Dad had never let his sickness get him down. He was strong. No matter what he suffered, he'd persevere, dart up, and finally transcend this cold world and his sick body. He rose into sky and became something beautiful. I watched until the balloon disappeared into the gray and white and I prayed that his strength was hereditary. I prayed to be a balloon.

1.When the girl asked her mother if they could write to her father, her mother _________.

A．felt it hard to answer       B．thought her a creative girl

C．believed it easy to do so           D．found it easy to lie

2.When the girl was told that she could send a letter to her father, she _________.

A．jumped with joy

B．became excited

C．started writing immediately

D. was worried that it couldn't be delivered

3.In the eyes of the author, what was the rain like?

A．An incurable disease

B．An unforgettable memory.

C．The hard time her father had.

D．The failures her father experienced.

 

Each time I see a balloon, my mind flies back to a memory of when I was a six-year-old girl. It was a rainy

Sunday and my father had recently died. I asked my mom if Dad had gone to heaven. "Yes, honey. Of course." she said.    

    "Can we write him a letter?"

    She paused, the longest pause of my short life, and answered, "Yes."

    My heart jumped. "How? Does the mailman go there?" I asked.

    "No, but I have an idea." Mom drove to a party store and returned with a red balloon. I asked her what it was for.

    "Just wait, honey. You'll see." Mom told me to write my letter. Eagerly, I got my favorite pen, and poured out my six-year-old heart in the form of blue ink. I wrote about my day, what I learned at school, how Mom was doing, and even about what happened in a story I had read. For a few minutes it was as if Dad were still alive. I gave the letter to Mom. She read it over, and a smile crossed her face.

    She made a hole in the corner of the letter where she looped the balloon string. We went outside and she gave me the balloon. It was still raining.

    "Okay, on the count of three, let go. One, two, three."

The balloon, carrying my letter, darted upward against the rain. We watched until it was swallowed by the mass of clouds.

Later I realized, like the balloon, that Dad had never let his sickness get him down. He was strong. No matter what he suffered, he'd persevere, dart up, and finally transcend this cold world and his sick body. He rose into sky and became something beautiful. I watched until the balloon disappeared into the gray and white and I prayed that his strength was hereditary. I prayed to be a balloon.

1.When the girl asked her mother if they could write to her father, her mother _________.

A．felt it hard to answer       B．thought her a creative girl

C．believed it easy to do so           D．found it easy to lie

2.When the girl was told that she could send a letter to her father, she _________.

A．jumped with joy

B．became excited

C．started writing immediately

D. was worried that it couldn't be delivered

3.In the eyes of the author, what was the rain like?

A．An incurable disease.

B．An unforgettable memory.

C．The hard time her father had.

D．The failures her father experienced.

4.What would be the best title for the passage?

A．An unforgettable experience          B．The strong red balloon

C．Fly to paradise                           D．A great father

 

Each time I see a balloon, my mind flies back to a memory of when I was a six-year-old girl. It was a rainy Sunday and my father had recently died. I asked my mom if Dad had gone to heaven. "Yes, honey. Of course." she said.

    "Can we write him a letter?"

    She paused, the longest pause of my short life, and answered, "Yes."

    My heart jumped. "How? Does the mailman go there?" I asked.

    "No, but I have an idea." Mom drove to a party store and returned with a red balloon. I asked her what it was for.

    "Just wait, honey. You'll see." Mom told me to write my letter. Eagerly, I got my favorite pen, and poured out my six-year-old heart in the form of blue ink. I wrote about my day, what I learned at school, how Mom was doing, and even about what happened in a story I had read. For a few minutes it was as if Dad were still alive. I gave the letter to Mom. She read it over, and a smile crossed her face.

    She made a hole in the corner of the letter where she looped (缠绕) the balloon string. We went outside and she gave me the balloon. It was still raining.

    "Okay, on the count of three, let go. One, two, three."

The balloon, carrying my letter, darted upward against the rain. We watched until it was swallowed by the mass of clouds.

Later I realized, like the balloon, that Dad had never let his sickness get him down. He was strong. No matter what he suffered, he'd persevere, dart up, and finally transcend (超越) this cold world and his sick body. He rose into sky and became something beautiful. I watched until the balloon disappeared into the gray and white and I prayed that his strength was hereditar. I prayed to be a balloon.

1.When the girl asked her mother if they could write to her father, her mother _________.

    A．felt it hard to answer               B．thought her a creative girl

    C．believed it easy to do so            D．found it easy to lie

2.When the girl was told that she could send a letter to her father, she _________.

    A．jumped with joy                      B．became excited

    C．started writing immediately                              D．was worried that it couldn't be delivered

3.In the eyes of the author, what was the rain like?

    A．An incurable disease.                B．An unforgettable memory.

    C．The hard time her father had.                            D．The failures her father experienced.

4.What would be the best title for the passage?

    A．An unforgettable experience          B．The strong red balloon

    C．Fly to paradise                                          D．A great father

 

 

Small moments sometimes last a very long time. And a few words—though they mean    1   at the time to the people who say them—can have great power.

    I recently heard a story from Malcolm Dalkoff, who has been a professional   2 for the last twenty-four years, mostly in advertising.

    As a boy, Dalkoff was terribly shy and     3   . He had few friends and no self-confidence. Then one day, his high-school English teacher, Ruth Brauch, asked the class to write their own chapter that would    4     the last chapter of the novel since they had been reading To Kill a Mockingbird. Dalkoff wrote his chapter and turned it in. Today he cannot recall anything special about the chapter he wrote, or what    5   Mrs. Brauch gave him.   6    , what he does remember is the four words in the paper: “This is good writing.” Four words. They 7   his life.

    “Until I read those words, I had no idea of who I was or what I was or what I was going to be,” he said, “After reading her    8    ,I went home and wrote a short story,    9   I had always dreamed of doing but never believed I could do.”

     Over the rest of that year in school, he wrote many short stories and always brought them to Mrs. Brauch for instruction. “She was   10   , helping and honest. She was just what I needed,” Dalkoff said. 

1．A .much                                 B. little                      C. well                      D. ill

2．A. report                                                                B. designer                C. writer      D. teacher

3．A. weak                                 B. independent           C. troublesome          D. helpless

4．A. follow                               B. change                  C. connect                D. explain

5．A. help                                   B. encouragement      C. grade                    D. words

6．A. Therefore                          B. However               C. Meanwhile            D. Besides

7．A. improved                           B. developed              C. changed                D. enriched

8．A. chapter                              B. novel                    C. note                     D. explanation

9．A. everything                          B. something             C. nothing                 D. anything

10．A. encouraging                       B. careful                   C. strict                 D. effective