I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as Mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the most wonderful thing in the world.
Years later, during her final illness, Mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk”, she said, “is for Elizabeth”.
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me, she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter.
They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional”. But she lived “on the surface”
As years passed and I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive me.
I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came.
My hope turned to disappointment，then little interest, finally, peace---it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to Mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told me, as she’d never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work, I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside---a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded(被折叠) and refolded many times.
Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose, Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
81. The writer began to love her mother’s desk________.
A. after Mother died        B. before she became a writer
C. when she was a child       D. when Mother gave it to her
82. The passage shows that__________.
A. Mother wrote her daughter in careful words
B. Mother cared much about her daughter in words
C. Mother was too serious about everything her daughter had done
D. Mother was cold on the surface but kind in her heart to her daughter
83. The word “gulf” in the passage means________.
A. part of the sea going far in land
B. free talks between mother and daughter
C. different ideas between the mother and the daughter
D. deep understanding between the old and the young
84. What did Mother do with her daughter’s letter asking for forgiveness?
A. She had never received the letter.     
B. She read the letter again and again till she died.
C. For years, she often talked about the letter.
D. She didn’t forgive her daughter at all in her life.
85. What’s the best title of the passage?
A. My letter to Mother       B. Mother and Children
C. My Mother’s Desk        D. Talks between Mother and Me

—Did you get my letter?

       —I received one just as I__________.

       A．set out      B．had set out       C．was setting out D．would set out

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.

四、阅读理解（共40分）
A
Linda Evans was my best friend －like the sister I never had. We did everything together: piano lessons, movies, swimming, and horseback riding.
When I was 13, my family moved away. Linda and I kept in touch through letters, and we saw each other on special time －like my wedding and Linda’s. Soon we were busy with children and moving to new homes, and we wrote less often. One day a card that I sent came back, stamped “Address Unknown”. I had no idea how to find Linda.
Over the years, I missed Linda very much, I wanted to share stories of my children and then grandchildren. And I needed to share my sadness when my brother and then mother died. There was an empty place in my heart that only a friend like Linda could fill.
One day I was reading a newspaper when I noticed a photo of a young woman who looked a lot like Linda and whose last name was Wagman－ Linda’s married name. “There must be thousands of Wagmans,” I thought, but I still wrote to her.
She called as soon as she got my letter. “Mrs. Tobin!” she said excitedly, “Linda Evans Wagman is my mother.”
Minutes later I heard a voice that I knew very much, even after 40 years, laughed and cried and caught up on each other’s lives. Now the empty place in my heart is filled, and there’s one thing that Linda and I know for sure: we won’t lose each other again!
56. The writer went to piano lessons with Linda Evans_______.
A. at the age of 13                 B. before she got married
C. after they moved to new homes     D. before the writer’s family moved away
57. They didn’t often write to each other because they_______.
A. got married                   B. had little time to do so
C. didn’t like writing letters        D. could see each other on special time
58. There was an empty place in the writer’s heart because she______.
A. was in trouble                
B. didn’t know Linda’s address
C. received the card that she sent    
D. didn’t have a friend like Linda to share her happiness or sadness
59. The writer was happy when she_________.
A. read the newspaper       
B. heard Linda’s voice on the phone 
C. met a young woman who looked a lot like Linda
D. wrote to the woman whose last name was Wagman

Linda Evans was my best friend—like the sister I never had. We did everything together: piano lessons, movies, swimming, horseback riding.
When I was 13, my family moved away. Linda and I kept in touch through letters, and we saw each other on special times—like my wedding and Linda's. Soon we were busy with children and moving to new homes, and we wrote less often. One day a card that I sent came back, stamped "Address Unknown" I had no idea about how to find Linda.
Over the years, I missed Linda very much. I wanted to share(分享) happiness of my children and then grandchildren. And I needed to share my sadness when my brother and then mother died. There was an empty place in my heart that only a friend like Linda could fill.
One day, I was reading a newspaper when I noticed a photo of a young woman who looked very much like Linda and whose last name was Wagman—Linda's married name. "There must be thousands of Wagmans."I thought, but I still wrote to her.
She called as soon as she got my letter. "Mrs. Tobin!" she said excitedly, "Linda Evans Wagman is my mother."
Minutes later I heard a voice that I knew very much, even after 40 years, laughed and cried and caught up on each other's lives. Now the empty place in my heart is filled. And there's one thing that Linda and I know for sure: We won't lose each other again!
【小题1】The writer went to piano lessons with Linda Evans ________.