As the sun sets, I feel attached to the old house I haven't been to for a long time. I called my sister, so I decided to travel. ...
Stepping in the sunset, accompanied by the sunset, is a little sad. I know that 40 minutes won't be long, but I just work hard and every step is heavy! I don't know how long it took, and I don't know how many sighs accompanied me. Say and I walked to the door.
Broken bridges and broken walls, the sunset is like blood and weeds are overgrown. If a big yard is deserted, who left the shadow of the years? Who washed away the old traces of childhood, leaving only reddish blood and lonely sadness! I cried helplessly and repeated it for tens of thousands of times. Even if all I left was screaming at the top of my lungs, I could do nothing.
Little moss on the wall seems to leave a few lines of homesickness when I am away. I tapped on the ancient wall and made a "bang" sound. In fact, "I've always wanted to come back!" Seeing the weeds everywhere, I tried my best to pull them up, but my sister stopped me. She grabbed my hand and said, what I can't pull out is memories. I know you miss her! ""How long has she been gone? " I mumbled and replied, "Maybe, 1 year, two years, three years ... no, in my heart, she never left ..." Six years, six whole years, I have been thinking about you! Why did you leave in such a hurry? Auntie!
Whether the leaves leave is the call of the wind or the trees don't stay. When you leave the old house, I seldom go, because things have changed here, and people have gone to the building, and you are gone.
Everyone's youth is like a bottle with different themes. Open the bottle, some smell bitter, some are slightly sad, and some are full of sweetness. Those who bid farewell to youth cry, remember it, look at photos and precipitate it, and those who live in youth always squander it bravely. What can we review?
At sunset, the night gradually darkened, so deep, I was cold, and my sister kept silent. I know, maybe, she is also thinking, whether the road she has traveled and the people she has met will look back at all this confusion in the future after everything returns.
The noise and brightness of the world, the joy and happiness of the world, like a clean stream, are warm in the wind and in front of my eyes. I don't expect anything. I just want you to be happy, not sad. ...
Looking back, my hair wrapped around my eyes and my tears became poems.
Excellent composition 2 of the old house reminds me of the old house that I left for a long time. I don't know how many times I've thought about it, but every time I miss it, I get one more point.
As the sun sets, the countryside at dusk is a little comfortable and quiet. Came to the earth slope in front of the old house, and a winding loess road led to the old house. I still vaguely remember that when I was a child, green grass grew on both sides of the road, and we rolled happily on the grass. Now, the path is overgrown with weeds, and the cracks in the stones along the road are covered with moss, which is quite bleak. There are hundreds of steps leading to the old house along the path, but the more I walk, the more uneasy I feel.
Before I came to the old house, the weeds in front of the door didn't reach my ankles, so I went straight to the door and stepped on the weeds, making a "squeaky" sound, as if stepping on a old bones. Once upon a time, the snow-white wall had already turned yellow. After years of wind and rain, the gap seemed to climb up the wall overnight. The electric meter on the wall has also rusted, and the number of stops seems to be static.
The door of this old house is made of wood. After so many years, it must be sunset, and the cracks grow quietly under the nourishment of the years. There is a small yard in the old house. When I pushed open the door and walked into the yard, I saw a rotten wooden stake. Suddenly, my memory was pulled back to the past. You are tall, straight and lush. Once you blocked the summer sunshine for us and added a little leisure in the heat; You used to accompany me through my childhood. I still remember in the past summer, under this fig tree, grandpa always liked to sit in a rocking chair and smoke a cigarette. I like shaking my body and telling me about his past eventful years. Every time I talk about the place of passion, my body will involuntarily straighten up and look into the distance.
Pacing into the kitchen, the hoe in the corner stood alone, and my father was wearing a star Dai Yue, carrying the figure of the hoe like a shadow; Xiao Mu's stool in front of the stove was not reflected by the fire, nor was it alive. In my mind, grandma sat in front of the stove and hooked the soles of her shoes. ...
It was already dark, so I gently closed the wooden door for fear of waking the sleeping old house. In the days to come, I will come and go gently to help you get rid of loneliness.
Old House Excellent Composition 3 "Hometown is the root of each of us. Without it, people have no roots ... "On the podium, the teacher is still explaining in cadence, and my thoughts have already flown to that ravine-an old house that I have only met several times.
Grandpa was still alive at that time, but he had unfortunately left. At that time, I was still young and didn't understand the pain of white-haired people sending black-haired people. I only remember that my great-grandfather and grandmother left one after another shortly after my grandfather died. In this way, a family with four generations living under one roof suddenly became fragmented because of the death of three old people. People in the old house left the ravine one after another and came to the county seat, leaving only four dads and their families guarding the old house.
Blue tiles, upturned eaves, antique walls and peeling paint traces all give people a distant meditation, as if the old man were inadvertently lost.
Five years ago, the fourth dad also gave up custody and the family moved to the county seat. At that moment, the old house was locked, and at the same time, the laughter and happiness there were also locked. Every Spring Festival, five families get together for a reunion dinner. But in the smell of tobacco and alcohol around me, I can't feel that kind of pure affection. Everyone's laughter is more or less mixed with some responses.
Three years ago, when I was a freshman in high school, my father, who had not returned to his hometown for a long time, suddenly offered to go back and have a look. Suddenly, a complex emotion rolled in my chest, like a pile of old sundries being turned over again, and the air was filled with dust.
The whole canyon was silent. At that moment, I understood the loneliness of that yard. We can clearly see that I don't know when the installed glass is gradually blurred. Through the window lattice with a thick layer of ash, we can only see the darkness ... No matter how noisy we are, the old house is always cold and silent, as if it were a relic accumulated in the long river of time, which is gradually hardening.
Lu Xun said that if you don't break out in silence, you will perish in silence. Silent old house, I'm afraid it will never erupt again. Maybe one day after a long time, the old house may have disappeared. So, I lamented the fate that the old house was doomed to disappear, and I would eventually become a rootless person. ...
It suddenly occurred to me that I had left my old house for more than six years. How high did the moss climb on the stone steps in front of the house? Is the swing in the house engraved with traces of time? How many fallen flowers did the running water behind the house take away? The old house, do you remember? Our date. Sorry I'm late.
Walking through the street corner, the scenery and memories overlap, but they are somewhat different. The scarlet door suddenly broke into sight, and my heart was a little bitter. The door in my impression carries countless beautiful memories, and the figure of playing hide-and-seek with my partner in my mind flashes by. Oh! Things are still there, but people are not what they used to be.
. The red lacquer fell off the door, carving countless mottles of time. The rattan frame in front of the door was the most mysterious place when I was a child. There are many unknown bugs in it, and there are sweet and sour berries in summer. But now, after three years of neglect of management, the lush green vines on it are not what they used to be.
In Chai Men, which has been hidden for a long time, time flows around in a quiet way, and I see the figure escaping from the shackles of the city. Is it me? By the wall, the wooden horse that took me to fly when I was a child, no one shook it again; The doll lying on the side looked at me with dull eyes and no emotion, but I knew she was crying; The glass jar tied with ribbon was broken, and the crystal beads were scattered all over the floor, losing their former glory; The huge spider web on the ceiling pricked the heart and stung the eyes.
Why blur the line of sight? Everything is still there, and they have not left. They just stay here and wait for me to come back, and then they are deprived of their youth and even their lives by time, getting old and dying. Sorry, I stood you up.
At this time, the scene reappeared in front of my eyes. The thin figure lingers in front of the house, muttering something, quietly making a promise: old house, I will leave soon and say goodbye to you. But I promise you, I will never forget all this. Can you keep your memory until I come back? But everything in front of me is just silence, accusing me of standing up? A kind of sadness emanates from the heart and fills the whole space. Sorry, sorry. Wry smile, really responded to the feeling of looking for, cold and lonely, sad and painful.
What should I do when my memory is no longer clear and only a string of sighs remains? Suddenly, if you keep the details in mind, even if the memory turns yellow, you will still smile like a spring breeze. I am willing to guard a city alone, a city called homesickness.
The old house, trust me. This time, I won't stand you up.
Miss the arm knocking on your dilapidated wooden door, like the door of innocence hidden in memory.
You are so old, the moss growing in the corner and the hanging ash on the beams all show that you have been baptized for a long time Time is an urgent child, which passes by in a hurry, but it leaves traces of years on you, clear and clear.
I remember playing naughty when I was a child under your gaze, brutally carving children's symbols on the wall swept by the breeze of the years, and running around happily, which was completely childish and tireless.
However, you can't keep me in a hurry, and I finally left you in the dust of the years. Hold a handful of loess under your feet when you leave, and then draw your outline on white paper with a pencil, because I am afraid I will miss you after I leave. But every time the leaves fall or the moon is full, you and your loved ones will become a complex in my heart.
A vagrant's dream has no roots. When I shuttle between concrete houses, I only miss the mountains, water, trees and you in my hometown. Another autumn has come, and the fallen leaves turn yellow, which is the color of the old house, because you have never faded under the wind of years.
Finally, I came back through the fallen leaves.
Near, near, I see the old tree beside you. It welcomes me with its fallen leaves. Then I saw you, painted on paper and printed in my mind, just like an old woman looking at the distance, who once sent away the back of a hurried wanderer, and now she is looking at his return from a distance. Stepping on fallen leaves, I finally touched your skin, still so strong, leaving traces of childhood. After many years, those scratches are still clearly visible, as if waiting for my return.
Push open the heavy wooden door and step on the dry moss on the ground. When I see you again, only the walls are empty. Everyone has moved into a new house with bricks and tiles, but no one has the heart to tear down your house, because you have recorded our joys and sorrows. The ash hanging on the heatable adobe sleeping platform, wooden windows and beams reminds me of the rope that reached into the memory well and fished out barrels of honey dew.
Years can cover up many things, but you can never stretch out a hand to wipe away the tears of memory for you, but you are still a beautiful scenery that has gone through vicissitudes.
The old house under the sunshine is gradually hazy and filled with a special smell of old dust. I pushed open the creaking door, and my memory flashed by-
The floor of the blue brick is still smooth, and the footprints on it seem to appear gradually: the feet stumble and the footprints get bigger step by step. Just when the footprint I broke into again covered my memory, everything quieted down and changed back to what it is now.
I walked up the stairs step by step, touching the smooth handrails, and felt a little emotion of an old friend who had been reunited for a long time. On the tenth floor, on the top floor, there are only two houses, opposite which lives an amiable old lady. Suddenly, when I stopped, I seemed to see the door creak open. A middle-aged woman poked her head out and said to me, "Thank you, little girl. Thanks to the reminder, I didn't leave my key outside. Well, as a gift, I'll give you a candy. " I was about to reach out to pick it up when the picture suddenly disappeared and restored calm.
Open the door, I'll look around first, and then walk in carefully. Everything is like a dream. I dreamed about this place more than once, and it witnessed my growth. Fingers brushed the wall, half of the wall was painted with white paint, and the lower part was a light blue skirt.
Turn left, it's the kitchen. White tiles are pasted on the wall one by one, which is happy and intimate. Suddenly I remembered a vague memory, which was too long ago, and I couldn't tell whether it was a reality or a dream. My mother carried me around the living room and shouted, "Ah, the little crab is out!" " "Let me giggle.
Turn right is the bedroom. I vaguely remember when I was a child. I am naughty and refuse to sleep. My mother coaxed me into saying, "Go to sleep, the elf is waiting for you in the dream." Pointing out of the window, I looked down and saw that there was really a bright little thing flapping its wings and flying towards me. There is a big bed in the room. Looking around, I saw my masterpiece hanging on the wall: a pink fairy with wings, a red sun, green grass, and a photo with our dog, next to which was written the words: rhubarb is my best friend.
Because I have to go to school when I grow up, my hometown is too far from primary school, so I have to move to a new home. What's particularly interesting is that I fell before I moved, and I fell in the same place when I came back to visit my hometown. Reality and memory overlap, making people feel like a lifetime ago. Gradually sink in the long river of rosy time, waiting for another appearance.
New home, old house, now I'm here. Before, I was there.
After school, I walked alone on the path home, and the surrounding houses were in tatters. Some don't have doors, some don't even have half a wall, and some have a hole in the roof. At this time, a skylight with only half a glass attracted me. I looked at it and couldn't help thinking of the old house.
My old house also has two skylights.
In the morning, when I opened my hazy eyes, the first thing I saw was the skylight on the roof. It is embedded in the roof like two precious stones. Yes, it is the skylight. The sun shines in warmly, and the skylight is like a magician, turning the sun into a strange shadow. Look! Some are like monsters, striding towards you; Some are like tigers, bared their teeth and claws, so mighty; Others roll on the ground like little people, which is very cute.
At noon, the sun father-in-law can't wait to give people the warmest hug and send warmth to the corner of the house without stint. At this time, the beam projected by the skylight becomes clearer. We cut off the light beam by hand, faster than anyone else, and cut it into pieces. The beam will never stop cutting. As soon as you take your hand away, the beam will heal again, so we played for more than half an hour. We stand in the light beam again, let the light beam project on ourselves, and turn ourselves into a colored person. We can compete whose shadow is long and whose shadow is beautiful. Sometimes stepping on the shadow can play for a long time. At this time, the skylight became a bystander, quietly watching, lazily lying on it in the sun, let us play in front of it.
When night fell, the skylight began to move again. Sister Moon came out, and the bright moonlight slowly formed a strange scene through the skylight. We children are lying in bed staring at the skylight, and all kinds of strange things come to mind. Will the Monkey King run out of the skylight? Will monsters spy on us from the skylight? Creativity comes from the skylight. When I was a child, I always wanted to be an astronaut and fly out of the earth to travel in beautiful space. I dreamed that I flew out of the earth from the skylight in a spaceship and saw warm stars, dry and cold mercury and chubby Saturn.
In this way, I even had a skylight in my dream, and there were fond memories of my childhood in the skylight.
Excellent composition of the old house 8 Guateng climbed the leaves of the bracket and climbed the wall unscrupulously like this. I opened the door of the house, and an ancient smell came to my face, vaguely revealing my familiarity.
Looking up, moldy spots gathered in the arms of the ceiling; Then look around, the white of the wall is replaced by darkness; Then look at the kitchen. The stove was occupied by a large number of cobwebs. Every corner is full of loneliness and desolation. I can't help but see everything I see, even the old house full of laughter and laughter has become so silent. It seems to sleep in the flow of time and never wake up. Suddenly, everything disappeared, and I seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. A violent vibration brought me back to reality. I opened my eyes and realized that I had been on the bus back to my hometown. What I just saw was an invisible dream. But people often say: there are thoughts during the day and dreams at night. Then where did my strange dream come from? I have racked my brains for this mystery. Suddenly I felt dizzy and thought for a long time.
There is no specific time, but this long-term feeling is more rampant. Missing the old house, I slowly got off the bus and honked my horn. Everything in front of me shocked me again, just like my dream in the car. Melons, vines, black spots and complicated cobwebs are all like a dream. I kept holding hands when I struggled, and the pain made me know clearly that all this was a reality. I never believe that the old house standing in front of me is where I was born. It looks like an old man with rickets, panting vaguely. Due to lack of care, Gua Tian has lost its former vitality and joy. But this is really the base where I grew up. I shook my head one by one, but the photos remained unchanged or even disappeared. It's just my way of escaping from reality. Using dreams as an excuse cannot be a reason to shirk reality. Back to the old house, I said hello for a long time, but it doesn't matter to keep silent about my old friend.
The next morning, when the sun rose, I waved goodbye to the old house. Even without the previous violations, this is still my beloved old house. There is no fixed definition in the world. This old house gave me the most common company and spent the happiest childhood with me. I just don't know the next time I see you.
The old house awakens the sleeping memory, and it stands on the river bank. The old house in my memory has aged a lot, leaving traces of the years gradually, and the branches and leaves are mottled on the old house.
Although my hometown is not a "small bridge with flowing water", it also has another pleasant scene. I remember my old house accompanied me through spring and summer, and my childhood memories are constantly linked with my old house, just like an empty airport, but full of memories, but unfortunately memories are just memories. Some memories stay in my mind just to forget, and some people spend their whole lives forgetting them. But I will never forget that old house full of vicissitudes. Remember the boat by the river? With the rhythm of the wind, the river dances and shakes; Remember the cicada singing in midsummer? Echoes in distant hearts for a long time; I still remember the flower tree in front of the door, quietly dropping petals. I never forget everything.
Every night, I look back in my dream, only my old house, my childhood crying, my laughter at play, my ignorance at school, and my pain of separation. It seems that there is always a nostalgic thought that binds me in my old house, just like a fetter and a yearning. I still can't see my future position. The past is the past. What should I do? I don't want to expect too much. I just want to be together forever. Wave goodbye to everything and really leave. Once, it ended in my hands with sadness and joy. The blue sky, clear sea water, soft trees, you, me and memories can only reverberate in my mind. The old house, I hope we will be together forever and never leave.
Several times, I walked with heavy steps to the path that I had walked thousands of times. Oh, nothing seems to have changed except the excitement of the past. The surrounding trees have grown taller and fuller, and the river is still clear, but the old house has disappeared, without the true and carefree heart at ordinary times. Wandering in the land occupied by the old house, one step, two steps, three steps, gradually lost their way. The old house is gone, but the old heart is buried with him and can't be found again. In fact, I know that nothing is nothing, and we can't meet again.
Looking at the yellowed photos, everything is gone. "Love flowers, flowers bloom in Huaxi, and partridges walk in the sand. Outside the hill, the Xijiang moon is like a dream, the grass crosses the river, and the willows are green. " Reading this passage reminds me of my old house. ......
It has been almost two years since the excellent composition 10 of my old house was written separately from my old house, but its image is deeply engraved in my heart.
Walk in the door and you will see a beautiful little house. Look, there is a crystal curtain in the middle, with some small grapes, leaves, flowers and some small dolphins hanging on it!
It's an old-fashioned small house with an area of only 58 square meters. The ceiling of the roof is uneven, and the ground is covered with a dark composite floor, but the surrounding walls are all white. In order to make me study better, my grandma and grandpa cleaned up a small library respectively. The small bookstore is very small, only a small bed, a small writing desk and a small bookcase can be put. I study, study and rest here.
I remember one time, the teacher assigned more homework. I wrote it very late, it was past 9 o'clock. The small study room is quiet, only the sound of the clock "tick, tick" can be heard. I seem to have an affinity for this house. I feel close to this house. We are good friends! It is it that accompanies me in this silent night!
Next to the library is a hall with a TV and a sofa. One day, my grandmother and I were watching TV when suddenly the TV was cut off. Grandma went out to have a look. It turned out that several children turned off the switch. Grandma said softly, "How can you naughty children turn off the switch?" "Sorry, I won't dare next time!" The naughty boy said with a red face. I find it interesting to see him like that. Grandma turned on the switch and we went back to the house to watch TV.
Here, the old house brought a lot of fun to my childhood.
Soon, my father came back from the factory and told us happily that our family was moving to a new home. Hearing this, I had to leave the old house where I lived day and night. There is an indescribable taste in my heart. I don't know whether it's joy or nostalgia. I came outside the old house, looked around at the flowers and plants, leaned down, picked up a handful of dirt, and the breeze blew, ah! What a fragrant soil! Sprinkle it gently in a flowerpot, plant a seed, cultivate it and let it stay with me forever.
A month later, when we moved into our new home, I looked up and saw a familiar place through the window. Isn't that our old house? My eyes are moist, and scenes of the past flash before my eyes.
Ah! Goodbye, old house! No matter how far I go in the future, I will never forget you!
Excellent composition in the old house 1 1 Look at a friend's composition, taste her emotions, and find that there is always a person in her composition. She misses him and loves him deeply. I don't know what kind of person, like a meteor, shuttles through her life, writes down her love in a few years, and then hastily puts pen to paper and goes to the end of life and another world. But I know that "he" reminds me of my grandfather, and also reminds me of Shuangfeng's hometown, its tile-roofed house yard and chicken shed vegetable garden; I also know that at that moment, my heart hurt unconsciously; My tears, unconsciously flow down.
Many years later, when I returned to Shuangfeng, every scene I saw was: an old man in his sixties was sitting on the bench, twisting pliers with his hands full of ravines and calluses, breaking thick iron wires, folding up a slingshot frame bit by bit, biting rubber bands and embedding them at both ends of the bow frame, and a beautiful slingshot was made. He handed it to a naughty child, and the child giggled ... an old man took oxygen, and the child next to him shouted, "I want to smoke, I want to smoke!" " "... the thing is ... people are not. ...
Old house, where is your laughter? Buried in the dust, right?
Yard, where were you happy? Is it blocked by weeds?
Chicken shed, where's your chicken throat? Killed by cobwebs, right?
Wave a long sickle and start working. Yes, only labor can stop my sadness. Wild grapes, nettles, plantain seeds ... countless weeds fell in front of me. After mowing the grass, I walked out of the yard and looked at the alley. It's quiet. There's no sound. The original three have now become two, and the once "laughter" has now become "silence". Sorrow penetrated my heart. Tears, unconsciously flowing downwards.
Alley, dead; Old house, dead. How can things be based on this?
The plain land after the storm is now a wilderness; Houses that used to be very distinctive are now no different from buildings in other places. The villagers moved into the new house one by one with laughter. When they wanted to see their former residence, they found that they had been razed to the ground by the developers who had been stinking in the copper pot.
Old houses ... empty alleys ... The thing is ... people are different. All this is like a dream. Everybody, wake up! How can you bear to see your memory razed to the ground in a characteristic house? Let those old houses stand proudly! This is not a question of how much money or price, this is the memory of the entity! How is its value measured by money?