I still remember that I just entered primary school that year. Looking at the raindrops falling outside the window, I am worried.
After school, the students huddled under an umbrella in groups of three and five and stumbled home. And I, wandering in the corridor of the classroom, waiting for my family to pick me up.
One minute passed, and just as I was about to leave in the rain, my mother came. She holds an umbrella that just opened horizontally in her left hand and an umbrella with a broken branch in her right hand. She came up to me and said, I'm really sorry I'm late. I said it doesn't matter, and she smiled.
He said, this is very clever. It's a good thing he didn't leave, otherwise he would have been soaked. I smiled.
In the sixth grade, there was a light rain. Because there was no warning before, I didn't bring an umbrella, but this time I didn't worry, because I was going home in the rain with several classmates who didn't bring an umbrella, and just when I came to the stairs, I saw a woman looking up at the bustling crowd and knew at a glance that she was coming to pick up the children.
Yes, it's my mother. I saw her, and she saw me. She looks happy. What about me? Instead, I thought: Do you think it is not shameful for me to use an umbrella in such a small rain? When I came to her, I picked up my umbrella and left without saying anything. I didn't take an umbrella. She shouted behind me, but I ignored her.
In retrospect, I'm really sorry. I often think that if one day I grow up.
Mom went out and it happened to rain. Will I give her an umbrella without regret? Thought of here, in the tears of Jing Ying, I remembered my mother's experience of giving me an umbrella.
2. When I was a child, I imitated the back of a class composition of 600 words, and the back I saw the most seemed to be my father.
On many occasions, my father always walks in front of us. Or any occasion.
Of course, if he walks behind me, there will be no natural sight and no impression; It happened that my father's back appeared repeatedly in middle school texts and other reading materials. A gentle shadow, generous and powerful.
It belongs to tolerance. When I grow up, I often read without mulberries.
In fact, it often rains in the mountainous climate of my hometown. Once it rains, it won't stop for a few minutes like Xiamen, but it will last. I think the reason why I didn't bring an umbrella at that time was that the umbrella at home was too heavy and long.
I was short at that time. I brought a long umbrella when I was in the fifth grade, and I couldn't hold it in front of the teaching building. It was opened by a tall female classmate and was laughed at by her classmates.
15 years later, I met this girl again in the small street of my hometown. She is married and her appearance has changed, but I still remember her curled up with an umbrella, although I am much taller than her now. I don't remember if I was missing an umbrella.
Dad will give me an umbrella when it rains, and I'm still afraid of him. The more scared I am, the more I hope he won't give me an umbrella, but it's impossible. My mother is always busier than my father, and her home is between my mother's school and mine. My mother can't walk a long way to see me off, especially when I go out.
My father will say, I have already said, take an umbrella on a sunny day, and I am full and hungry. Then pass me the umbrella.
I took it silently, and then walked behind in small steps. I think I fell behind on purpose.
Father found that as long as he slowed down, I would slow down. So you can see his back completely from the back.
Sometimes, I will see the rain coming obliquely, and my father's umbrella is not straight, so I will spray my clothes a little. On another occasion, my father lent an umbrella to a mother and son on the way.
Tell them that my father and I can support them. I'll watch them walk away. Father never looked back. He walked ahead in the rain. I called my father. Maybe the rain was loud and my father didn't hear it.
Chapter 2: Late autumn is behind. The weather is cold and cold. The north wind shook the old tree unscrupulously and made strange noises on the bare treetops. The yellow leaves on the ground are rolled up by the wind, spinning in the air, just falling and being rolled up ... people's faces are full of chill. My mother and I are walking in a quiet street.
It's very cold. Even wearing a thick sweater, the north wind still comes in from the small hole in the sweater, which makes people almost breathless. Looking at a fallen leaf swept by the wind, I can't help thinking: another tough winter! At this time, a thin figure appeared in the distance, sitting alone on the ground.
Against the cold wind, we walked quickly forward, and our backs gradually became clear ... that was a beggar. She is about 30 years old, but her brow is full of vicissitudes.
She only wore thin clothes and trembled slightly in the cold wind. Another gust of wind blew, and she held the child tighter.
That's probably her son, wrapped in two quilts, snuggling in his mother's arms. Perhaps, it was his mother who snuggled up to him. She snuggled up to the child and hugged her tightly. She couldn't wait to give half of her body temperature to the child, but forgot that she was still sitting on the freezing ground, still shaking ... At this time, another north wind roared past us with fallen leaves, making her pale at the sight of the grass Buddha, and the wood was torn off by it, which was extremely biting and fierce.
She shuddered. However, I saw her wrap the child in the quilt again, and then, without any hesitation, she took off a coat of her own and gently covered the child.
Her body is like leaves in late autumn, shaking badly, but the warmth between her eyebrows and eyes can drive away the cold. She looked at the sleeping face of the child, and a warm smile appeared on her face. The fundus is infinite love and infinite warmth ... She holds the child tightly, stands up from the ground and walks away step by step ... It's just that the child in her arms is still asleep, as if she doesn't know the predicament he faces, or he knows that he will never be cold, because no matter what. The cold wind blew, and suddenly a dress fell on me, and a warm current spread all over my body.
Looking back, I only saw my mother's face warm.
It was late autumn, the dew was cold, and the wind was cold, which was chilling. The north wind shook the old tree unscrupulously and barked at the bare treetops. The yellow leaves on the ground were rolled up by the wind and circled in the air, just falling and being rolled up again. ...
People's faces are full of chill.
My mother and I are walking in a quiet street. It's very cold. Even wearing a thick sweater, the north wind still comes in from the small hole in the sweater, which makes people almost breathless. Looking at a fallen leaf swept by the wind, I can't help thinking: another tough winter!
At this time, a thin figure appeared in the distance, sitting alone on the ground.
Against the cold wind, we walked quickly forward, and our backs gradually became clear. ...
That's a beggar. She is about 30 years old, but her brow is full of vicissitudes. She only wore thin clothes and trembled slightly in the cold wind.
Another gust of wind blew, and she held the child tighter. That's probably her son, wrapped in two quilts, snuggling in his mother's arms. Perhaps, it was his mother who snuggled up to him. She clung to the child. She wanted to give half her temperature to the child, but forgot that she was still sitting on the freezing ground, still shivering. ...
At this time, another north wind roared past us with fallen leaves, and the grass turned pale and the wood fell off, which was extremely biting and fierce.
She shuddered. However, I saw her wrap the child in the quilt again. Then, without any hesitation, she took off one of her coats and gently covered the child.
Her body is like leaves in late autumn, shaking badly, but the warmth between her eyebrows and eyes can drive away the cold. She looked at the sleeping face of the child, and a warm smile appeared on her face. The fundus is infinite love and infinite warmth. ...
She held the child tightly, stood up from the ground and walked away step by step ... Only the child in her arms was still asleep, as if she didn't know the predicament he was facing, or he knew that he would never be cold, because no matter how strong the wind was, his mother could shelter him, leaving him only warmth.
The cold wind blew, and suddenly a dress fell on me, and a warm current spread all over my body.
4. Write a composition by imitating the back. Winter in Beijing is unimaginable cold for people living in the south. On a snowy morning, on the way to school, you can vaguely see the backs of three people, stumbling along with the biting cold wind. The fat one is my grandfather, and the one who is neither fat nor thin nor tall or short is my grandmother. And the one in the middle who was sheltered by two old people was me. They insist on sending me to school every day, whether it's windy or rainy, whether it's cold or hot. Looking back now, that little incident moved me to tears. ...
When I was growing up, many people always cared about me, including parents, teachers and classmates ... but here, I want to talk about my grandparents.
When I was in Beijing, my parents were not around, and my grandparents took care of me. But at that time, the two old people were in their seventies and it was not convenient to walk. But they always get up before five o'clock every day. Grandma cleans the room and keeps the house spotless. Grandpa always prepares breakfast for me carefully, which makes my breakfast so nutritious. Because of presbyopia, I often cut my fingers and eat them in my mouth, which hurts in my heart.
Once, the science teacher asked the students to raise silkworms. But because I usually have too much homework, I have no time to take care of the silkworm baby, so my grandparents gave me this homework. Grandpa will go to the library to look up books about how to raise silkworms. Grandma runs around every day picking mulberry leaves for me and supplying these greedy silkworms. Many times, grandma's arm was cut by mulberry branches, and grandpa's eyes were sore from reading. Looking at these fat-eating, crawling silkworm babies, do you know how hard the old people have worked? I know. I not only know this, but also know that every silkworm, every mulberry night, is entrusted with the expectations of grandparents. As for the descendants of these silkworms, I still have them, although I have experienced many twists and turns in moving, because I want to keep this expectation, which not only reminds me of my grandparents, but also encourages me to study and face failure bravely.
In the evening, when I do my homework, my grandma and grandpa always accompany me, guide me to write my composition and help me with my homework. Sometimes, they will accompany me until one or two in the morning, and my eyes slowly turn red.
My grandparents seem to have done everything for me, and I can deeply feel their love for me. They are willing to give everything for me.
Mom and dad have come back from abroad. I followed them because they were going to work in Xiamen.
I was separated from my grandparents after I moved to Xiamen. I really don't know how I gave up my feelings with them at that time. Living in Xiamen, I always feel that life is missing something at once. I can only call them every weekend, not only to greet them, but also to tell them my true feelings. Grandma is always nagging, and I used to be annoying. But now, I wish I could listen to her nagging on the phone, because now it sounds like everything grandma says is a wonderful music. Grandpa is introverted and not very talkative. When talking to him on the phone, he could only hear the following words: "study hard, listen carefully in class, and don't be distracted" ... although that's all, I will never forget what he has done for me.
I will think of them from time to time, the way I rode around my grandfather's neck when I was a child, and the way my grandmother disciplined me when I was disobedient. These beautiful pictures are still fresh in my mind. ...
I used to host a program during Christmas in Beijing. But every program content is prepared by grandparents. The first Christmas after I came to Xiamen, I began to worry about how to host and arrange the program. Unexpectedly, my grandmother, who was far away in Beijing, had already guessed my thoughts. My grandfather carefully prepared Santa Claus's clothes, big bags of gifts and gifts distributed to everyone, all of which were packed in that beautiful box and wrapped in paper with Santa Claus patterns, showing how hard they worked for me. In this program, I will play Santa Claus to give presents. ) They even carefully arranged a catalogue for me, even the program sequence was arranged! Because I was afraid that the catalogue would be broken in the mail, I put it in a bag surrounded by plastic foam Looking at the package specially sent to me in front of me, tears could not help but fall.
Recalling what my grandparents did for me is like a warm current flowing through my heart. My sapling grew up slowly in a greenhouse without snow and wind. No matter where they are, they always take care of me and let me spoil them. But sometimes, they also open the doors and windows of the greenhouse, which makes me feel the frustration caused by failure and frustration, makes me learn to be strong and take care of myself, and there are many, many more. ...
Xiamen is still unusually warm in late autumn, but it must be very cold in Beijing now, which reminds me of three figures walking carefully in the snow. I can't write any more. I must call my grandparents in Beijing now!
Write a short essay based on my father's back. Father bowed his head and worked hard on the hillside. The afterglow of the sunset stretched his figure for a long time. Suddenly, my father stood up and held the hoe that he had polished himself. Looking at the distance, my father looks so old. His weathered face is wrinkled like old bark after a long drought. It is so big that I can't forget my parents' kindness.
Living in the mountains, I am fascinated by the outside world. I seem to have forgotten the unchanging feelings in the mountains, my father's elongated figure and hunched back, but today I am facing this unchanging feeling! I secretly shed tears. On Sunday, we have Sundays, but my father doesn't. On that tearful Sunday, my father raised his hoe on the hillside and plunged deep into the yellow land. I stood in the distance and looked at this great father. The hunchbacked father stood up with difficulty and almost raised the zenith by a few feet. Father looked into the distance, looked at the fields he had worked so hard to cultivate, put his hand into his pocket for a while and put a bag of cigarettes.
I stood there quietly, my eyes blurred. I dare not and can't move, because my father's love for me is too heavy for me to bear. I asked myself, why, why, why a kind father is not rewarded, why am I so stupid, is this for my father? He asked for nothing in return.
Oh, I see. My father is a mountain and I am a tree. The mountain always gives the tree a favor, and the tree constantly absorbs the essence of the mountain. Can the mountain not be old? My father is Ling. Can I step on his back without bending him? .
I watched, and my tears flowed heartily. My father has shed tears for most of his life, but I know he is very wronged, but I just don't show it. So let me shed endless tears for my father and enjoy it! I looked at my father on the mountain, but he still didn't stop. Sometimes he would stand up and look at the distance, and the overlapping mountains blocked my father's sight with his livid face. Years passed on the yellow land, leaving a tired song to be sung to my father who worked hard in the long years, for nothing but to repay my father's deep love for his children. I just want to smooth my father's wrinkles with a song, but what should I do? As deep as a ditch, it is uneven.
The father on the hillside is a bow and arrow facing the sky. I deeply apologize to my father, father, forgive me, because in the near future, my daughter will become a powerful string on your ancient bow and arrow and will never be forgotten. 2. In other articles, I always call him dad, sometimes very naughty, but today, I call him dad because I wrote this article for him.
-Inscription My father came back from Xi 'an. I am very happy. I can finally report my study and life to him, and I don't have to stay at home alone. My father will take me on a trip. As soon as my father entered the room, I found him black and thin. The heavy work in Xi 'an must have crushed my father. When he saw me, he shouted happily, "Son! You have grown a lot! " My father's voice is a little hoarse, and it is no longer as loud as it was when he was young.
I followed my father to get my luggage. The setting sun reflects my father's old and slightly hunched back ... before I can see it clearly, the setting sun takes away the afterglow. Maybe the sunset is afraid that I will be too sad and leave. After dinner, my father and I went for a walk.
"Dad, where is Xi 'an ..." I thought for a while, but I still asked, "... what was it like there?" "good! Don't you think dad is very healthy? " "hmm ..." at this moment, a father's classmate came in front, and his father went up to talk to him. The moonlight opened his heart and showed his father's back with its light. " Dad, that's what I usually call him, but it seems that Dad is really old. He used to have a straight back and always played jokes on me humorously.
At this time, the back reflects the dignity of a man and belongs to his father. Magnificent, heroic and full of blood, as my father usually taught me: "A good man aims at all directions, son, fight and fight!" Therefore, over the past few years, I have been working hard to run for class monitor every year, just to be worthy of my father's deep love ... In the morning, I was dreaming, and my father wanted to pull me out of bed: "Go, do morning exercises!" " "The sun shines on the earth, and the father's back is folded. This time is different! That number is full of expectations, expectations for me, expectations for my mother, my brother ... all my family. I nodded confidently and caught up with my father. " Yes! Boy, run! I'll compete with you! "... father's back has different meanings, but it is the embodiment of deep fatherly love. My father's back will always be reflected in my mind and will never be erased. I am afraid to look at my back, because it is always so silent.
Walking along the back, you can see everything, but you can't see the back you care about, and you can't see where your eyes fall. Then I will be distracted without scruple until my back suddenly turns and my expression immediately calms down, but in fact I am panicked; I'm afraid that a strange face will suddenly approach me.
1 When I was a child, I saw the most figure, as if it were his father. On many occasions, my father always walks in front of us.
Or any occasion. Of course, if he walks behind me, there will be no natural sight and no impression; It happened that my father's back appeared repeatedly in middle school texts and other reading materials.
A gentle shadow, generous and powerful. It belongs to tolerance.
When I grow up, I often read without an umbrella. I don't like to take it.
In fact, it often rains in the mountainous climate of my hometown. Once it rains, it won't stop for a few minutes like Xiamen, but it will last. I think the reason why I didn't bring an umbrella at that time was that the umbrella at home was too heavy and long.
I was short at that time. I brought a long umbrella when I was in the fifth grade, and I couldn't hold it in front of the teaching building.
It was opened by a tall female classmate and was laughed at by her classmates. 15 years later, I met this girl again in the small street of my hometown. She is married and her appearance has changed, but I still remember her curled up with an umbrella, although I am much taller than her now.
Are you from there?
6. The teacher asked us to write a composition imitating the background of the text. Motherly love about affection will have an exam tomorrow, and everyone is eagerly "gnawing" books. I am no exception. Maybe because of too much pressure, I am very upset. In the dead of night, I am still looking through my Chinese book in confusion, but I can't understand it at all. At this moment, my mother pushed the door and came in with a cup of hot milk in her hand. "Mom said with concern with a smile. Although I know my mother's mind, my irritability has turned me into a hedgehog, and my mother has become the object of venting. "I don't want to drink. I don't even have time to read. Do I still have time to drink milk? "I don't look up." You'd better go to bed early for tomorrow's exam, or you'll be listless tomorrow. "There was a hint of anxiety in my mother's tone." Leave me alone! I can't read! "I shouted at my mother. The atmosphere suddenly became very lifeless and awkward. My mother was stabbed all over by me, like a turtle without a shell. I know my mother cares about me, and I know I hurt my mother. In fact, I really don't want to say those harsh words, but I don't know why, as soon as I opened my mouth, these words came out like a barrage. My mother silently put my books on the bed and saw me. Close the door gently ... listening to my mother's footsteps behind the door and looking at the steaming milk in front of me, my heart is full of guilt. I want to run out and say "sorry" to my mother. However, I have no courage. In this silent night, I hurt my mother, but my mother laughed it off and was so tolerant of me. My broad maternal love makes me feel so great, but it fills me with guilt. I turned off the light. I looked at the ceiling and made up my mind that I would apologize to my mother tomorrow. I suddenly feel that my mother's love is like air, which keeps me alive, but I often forget its existence.
7. Write a composition by imitating the back. I have seen Zhu Ziqing's back, perhaps because he is still young, and I can't really understand what his father's back left for Zhu Ziqing. I just feel a little sour and astringent. But there is one thing that makes me understand Zhu Ziqing's endless indescribable feelings, and that is his mother's back. ...
My mother is an ordinary and great mother. My mother gets up early and gets dark every day. She is busy with housework and helps to look after things in the factory. I usually eat Chinese food at school, but recently I have stomach trouble, and my mother picks me up for dinner every noon. This undoubtedly increased my mother's burden. It was a winter with a downpour, cold and rainy. I stood shivering at the school gate, waiting for my mother to pick me up. The test paper was handed out in the morning, and the usual good grades were quite different from this one. In the morning, the teacher talked to me. In fact, I have tried my best, but how can this result be? Really, this morning, the sky is gray and my heart is gray. Now, I just want to be early. It's almost 12 o'clock, and other students have been taken home by their parents. The students who had lunch at school were full, and the more I waited, the more anxious I became. The more I waited, the more disappointed I became, and the tears could not help falling. At this time, the teacher came over and told me that Grandpa was ill and had an intravenous drip in the hospital. My mother asked me to eat at school first. I was extremely angry when I heard this. She knows I have a bad stomach and is still angry.
It is already the first class in the afternoon. It's raining harder outside, and it seems colder than in the morning. Being angry is really unpleasant. I didn't eat at noon, and my stomach began to growl. Really cold and hungry. I began to feel a little too much at noon. It's not really my mother's fault. I was thinking, "Hey, your mother is waiting for you outside! Go quickly! " My deskmate yelled at me. Is it true?/You don't say. God, it's so cold outside. I rushed out. A familiar figure appeared in my sight. It's really my mother. I saw her whole trouser leg was wet, with an umbrella in one hand and a lunch box in the other. Her face is so haggard and anxious. At noon, all her grievances were forgotten. I completely ignored the views and eyes of teachers and classmates, rushed out of the classroom and threw myself into my mother's arms, gently asking, "Mom, it's raining, so cold, why are you still here?" "I'm afraid you don't have enough to eat at noon, so I bought you your favorite beef fried rice. Sit down and eat quickly. " Listening to my mother's words, my throat choked. I dare not tell her. Actually, I haven't eaten at noon yet! She took out a box from her bag and said, "Qian Qian, it's mom's fault. She didn't come to pick you up in time and made you hungry, but mom really can't leave. Eat quickly, it's still hot. Your father is going to the factory to deliver goods today, and your grandfather is still in the hospital. I have to go. " At the moment, my heart is like a five-flavor bottle, everything has a taste, but more is self-blame and self-blame. In my mother's arms, I secretly cried and shed tears of shame. I didn't let my mother see me, and I tried to cover it up. My mother smiled and said, "Eat quickly! The food doesn't taste good when it is cold! I'm leaving! " I didn't look up, just said "hmm". When I looked up again, my mother had already left the school gate, leaving me with a back. The back seems to have many meanings, but more is my mother's love for me. I stood in the wind for a long time with tears in my eyes and thought a lot. ...
8. The vast sea of people has to write 300 words by themselves, and only his back impressed me deeply. Under the irradiation of the sunset, it shines brightly. He is an ordinary person and leads an ordinary life. His family consists of four people. He has an elderly mother, a disabled wife and a child who is attending kindergarten. He is the only support in the family, and all hopes are pinned on him. In order to support the family, he began to collect junk. As usual, people went to work one after another in the early morning, and the community was quiet. No children are playing and singing. I am enjoying this quiet time. A harsh voice comes into my ear, "Who has garbage?" It woke me up from my dream. I stood up while complaining. My mood was gray, which was too bad. Before long, there was a fierce quarrel downstairs. Curiosity prompted me to go down and have a look at the excitement. I squeezed into the crowd and saw the garbage collector arguing with the family. I looked at the junk collector carefully. He is in his early forties, and his hair seems to have not been washed for a long time. He looks like a chicken coop with several scars on his face. He should be taught a lesson. His thick lips were wrapped in a thick beard. It looks scary. Clothes are tattered and patched everywhere, and I dare not look down. I thought to myself: this man really has no quality I learned from their quarrel that his family thought he stole something, but he refused to admit it, but he was still weak. Finally, he gave his hard-earned money to his family. Soon, he walked out of the crowd with his head down and rode a horse. Curse him constantly, and it is appropriate for the governor to learn to be a thief. A few days later, the garbage collector came again, and I thought to myself: You are a street mouse-everyone is shouting at you, how dare you come? However, this time I made a big mistake. He not only recovered what the family lost, but also cleared himself, and repaired the broken machine for the family. male