The bus carried me away from my father, and his thin figure gradually turned into a black spot and disappeared in the hazy morning light.
Dad is much older and thinner, his temples have turned white, and deep wrinkles have climbed up his cheeks, but his eyes are still so bright.
His face is round and flat, like a hamburger, which is very interesting. His forehead is very high, and it becomes wider and wider as his hair gradually moves back.
In the light, the strands of white hair on my mother's head are more dazzling, as well as wrinkles on her forehead and brown spots on her face. ...
With the passage of time, grandma began to grow silvery white hair on her head, and dad's forehead was also etched with wrinkles by ruthless years.
Mom, you always dress like that, wearing a purple blouse with white spots on your upper body, a pair of fat black pants below and a pair of washed white black cloth shoes on your feet.
My mother is slim, with a delicate face and a pair of charming eyes embedded under her curved eyebrows. She has a small red cherry mouth and long black hair under her high nose, which is as bright and smooth as polished oil.