初一英语阅读60篇1Ive loved my mothers 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 more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk,” shed said again, “its for Elizabeth. ”I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved
