Every day, we had to go up the stairs when we came home. The echo of the stairs was always loud, and my father's thumping footsteps then vibrated my eardrums with a bang. The footsteps were as familiar as my father's, and I stayed to listen this day without going up the stairs. A picture emerged in front of my eyes.
I forget how long ago it was. On that day, the sky was dark, as if wearing a hole, the rain fell incessantly, and the kindergarten was closed. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to get a good look at this, but I'm sure you're going to be able to get a good look at this, and I'm sure you're going to be able to get a good look at this. My family was afraid that something might happen to me, so they asked my father to take me to the hospital. However, there were so few buses in the rainy weather, and when I came to the station, there was not a single bus, not to mention that the buses to the hospital ran once an hour. Not only that, every cab that passed by was always filled with passengers. When my father saw this, he carried it on his back and ran fast without thinking. "Knock, knock, knock ......" the sound of powerful footsteps burned in the memory of my young child at that time. He carried me in the storm running, running, with his feet to the ground, the ground splashed, the previous splash did not fall, and then splashed a new layer of splash. In this way, also forget to run for a long time, to the hospital, although he was wearing a raincoat, pants but all wet.
I remember when I was very young, I liked to let my father learn the horse, and then I sat on his back. "Scratch ......" was the sound of my father's knees and insteps rubbing the floor. Then when he was happy he would pick me up again and spin, spin, spin, the sound of breaking stride. There were also times when he would let me ride on his shoulders and I would vibrate to the sound of his steps ......... Now, my father was busy with his work and sometimes came home late at night. When he came home his footsteps were always so light, for fear of waking up the sleeping family, in fact, I had been woken up by the sound of him opening the door, in order to live up to his intentions, I also pretended to be asleep.
"What are you staring down there for?"
"Nothing, it's going up." I then remembered I hadn't been up the stairs yet.
Going up the stairs, I saw my father, and I realized he had a few more silver strands. What hadn't changed was the reliable sound of his footsteps, which kept echoing in my mind.
2. Write an essay in imitation of Steps 500 wordsEvery day, we go up the stairs when we go home.
The echo of the stairs was always loud, and my father's thumping footsteps vibrated my eardrums with a bang. The footsteps are as familiar as my father's, and I've been listening to them this day, not going up the stairs.
A picture emerged in front of me. The first time I saw this, it was a very good time for me to go back to the office.
That day, the sky was dark, like wearing a hole, the rain came down non-stop, the kindergarten was closed.
The first time I saw this, I had a fever, and it was so bad that I couldn't get up from my bed, and I was so weak.
My family was afraid that something might happen to me, so I asked my father to take me to the hospital.
Not only that, but every cab that passed by was always full of passengers. When my father saw this, he ran fast without thinking on his back.
"Knock, knock, knock ......" the sound of powerful footsteps burned in the memory of the then young me. He carried me on his back in this storm, running, running, as his feet landed, the ground splashed, when the previous splash did not fall, and splashed a new layer of water.
In this way, also forget to run for a long time, to the hospital, although he was wearing a raincoat, pants but all wet. I remember when I was very young, I liked to let my father learn the horse, and then I sat on his back.
"Scratch ......" was the sound of my father's knees and insteps rubbing the floor. Then when he was happy he would pick me up again and spin, spin, spin, the sound of breaking stride.
There were also times when he would let me ride on his shoulders, and I would vibrate to the sound of his steps ......... Now, my father was busy with his work, and sometimes came home late at night. When he came home his footsteps were always so light, for fear of waking up the sleeping family, in fact, I had been woken up by the sound of him opening the door, in order to live up to his intentions, I also pretended to be asleep.
"What are you doing down there?" "Nothing, it's going up." I then remembered I hadn't gone up the stairs yet.
Going up the stairs, I saw my father, and I realized he had a few more silver strands. What hasn't changed is the sound of his trusty footsteps, which have always echoed in my mind.
3. Essay: Write a story about your grandpa or grandma modeled after "The Steps" 600 words or more Good answer plusGrandpa's Love
"Love" is everywhere and all the time, we love others every day, and we are loved by others every day. Love fills the world and is all around us. Love is like the sun, always warm us, let us grow up.
However, in these millions of kinds of love, the love that my grandfather gave me is the deepest and most selfless. Grandpa is 65 years old this year, is a healthy and happy old man. He cares a lot about my study and he cares a lot about my life. Every time I finish writing a composition, he will always look at it carefully and repeatedly, point out my strengths and weaknesses, and teach me some writing skills, so that my writing level has obviously improved. In addition, my grandfather also ordered many newspapers and magazines, telling me that reading, observing and accumulating more is the secret of writing good essays. The first thing I'd like to say is that I don't want to be a part of it, but I want to be a part of it," he said.
I'm not sure if I've ever been in a situation where I've had a chance to get a good look at a book. I remember, once, I saw an interesting extracurricular questions in the exercise book, then do it, who knows the more difficult to do, the more you look at the more confused. Half an hour had passed, and there was still no clue. I took this question to grandpa to see, grandpa saw, then took out a pen and paper to do, five minutes passed. Grandpa's expression changed from a smile to a frown, and he kept saying, "It's a bit difficult, you need to think!" When I saw that my grandfather was in trouble, I said, "Grandpa, forget it, the questions are outside the classroom, don't do it." Grandpa shook his head and smiled without answering.
A week passed and I forgot all about it. However, one day, grandpa called me to his side, took out a small piece of paper, and a densely written manuscript paper, making me puzzled, it turned out, he is to give me that question how to do. I heard, immediately came to energy, concentrate on listening to grandpa explained. Grandpa took out the manuscript paper, read the above solution and arithmetic steps, but also with a small piece of paper next to it, representing the box in the question, seriously speaking, although this question is tedious steps, not good to understand. Grandpa still use the knowledge we already have to explain. I listened to a lot of attention, with the grandfather's ideas layer by layer, soon to be clear.
It turns out that this question is not difficult for Grandpa, and he figured out the answer in a moment. The difficulty lies in how to speak so that I can understand, he first in the "Baidu know" website to teach the professor user, get a small lesson plan, but also their own hands, step by step carefully calculate, and in the equation next to show the idea, but also made some small paper, with the image of things to help me understand. Grandpa is so serious about my learning, so tireless, I do not study well can afford him?
Grandpa seems to be a selfless flower giver, giving me fragrant roses, and the fragrance warms me, influences me, and inspires me.
4. 初二作文：父亲 600字 仿着初二下册《台阶》写Think of your back, I feel the toughness; touch your hands, I feel the hardship; unknowingly your sideburns showed white hair, no word you added wrinkles on the corners of the eyes; my father ah, the most loving person; the sweetness of the earth has ten points, you only tasted three points; I love you, my father! ......
Father, are you asleep? At this moment I suddenly think of you, too many words, but there is no way to say ...... those words that hurt you and the idea of youthful madness, will you forgive me ......
I lie in the dormitory, thinking of my father, back to school before I had a change of heart with him, because in the last week I heard my mother say, my father will take me to the temple fair next weekend, the temple fair ah, once upon a time is my father alone to go, this time it is the temple fair organizers to give my father a table position, I am y proud and excited about this, but, because of my uncle's alone to do the Lord and more guests, my father, he went so far as to condescend to me to give up my position! I refused my father's offer to seat me at the additional table, thinking that I had gotten it from crying to my grandmother and that I didn't care for it! The more I think the more uncomfortable, as if there is a fire of expectation in my heart, but, a pot of cold water down, there is only a sad green smoke, smoked my eyes red ......
But then I think of my return to school to my father's angry scolding and eating, stupid ***, do not deserve to be a father and other hurtful father's words, it's a good contradiction! ......
By Wednesday, I went to the janitor as usual to pick up the meal, which is every Wednesday of my junior year, my mother deliberately wanted to give me nutritional supplements, but every time my father personally sent over, I was half an hour late due to teacher detentions, I came to the janitor's office, looked up, poisoned sunlight licked the ground, every angle is like a fiery mirror of the Focus, my father stood outside the fence, sweating profusely, he came to me, skillfully handed me the food box, he smiled and said go back, turn around I tear wet eyes ......
I suddenly feel very sorry for my father, he is a man, the emotion is naturally not as delicate as my mother, but, he is like a house, sheltered from all the rain and wind; he is like a pit, buried all the grievances; he is like a pit, buried all the grievances, buried the grievances. Buried all the aggression; he is like a mountain, tolerance of all should not ......
My father is a generous person, I should not ah, should not be catty, should not be selfish, should not speak out of respect, and should not be questioned father's love ......
Always ask for your father, but never said thank you; until after growing up, only to understand that you are not easy; every time you leave is always, pretending to be easy; smile and say go back, turn around and tears wet the bottom of the eyes ......
Time time slower, don't let your father get older; I would like to use all my father for years I would like to use everything I have to exchange my father's years for a long stay; my father who has been strong all his life, what can I do for you? I would like to give everything I have for my father to live longer; what can I do for you, my father, who has been a strong man all his life? Take this insignificant concern, thank you for everything you have done; hold up our home with both hands and always do your best to give me the best. Still worried about me? O child you hold on to, grown up! I'm not sure if I can do it, but I'm sure I can do it!
5. Imitation of "Steps" 500 words describing the father of the essayMemory of my father always loved to wear a wide shirt, let the wind blowing bulging, wearing a pair of large rubber-soled cloth shoes, "tada" sound and dusk and the feeble wind companion.
And other middle-aged men, like, sometimes love to drink a few mouthfuls of wine, a few times to play poker. Occasionally, if you drink too much, you will be drunk in a piece of sunset, watching a single bird alone across the pale sky.
However, my father gave me the impression that more is early and late, every day my father got up early, but always do not wake me up early, only in 6:00 when I wake up, their own fast to the factory. Every day when I walk into the kitchen, I always see a very hearty breakfast, but Dad, he never had enough time to eat these delicious things.
It was a boss, but I always saw him busy. Is a serious person, rarely a smile on his face, but every time he hears in the academic progress, will, joyfully encourage us to go to the next level.
That smile, in the father's dark face bloom, brilliant as a lotus flower, and my heart at that time, but was severely pulled a bit. Father ah, daughter a little bit of achievement let you so proud, and the glory of which, where not soaked in your sweat ah! Father is always busy, in fact, I know, my father would like to others, in the morning about three or five friends to go to a favorite drink, at noon, happy and mother together to prepare a simple meal, the evening and we study, play; but survival, this cruel, the father's youth, health, rest one by one, ruthlessly taken away.
I am now a meager ability, simply not enough to bear some for my father, my father silently held up alone, but let me go on a good journey. I can only say, "Dad, I love you, you are the best father in the world."
Thank you.
6. Imitate "Steps" to write an essay about father or mother,urgentlyFriend, have you ever been touched by the backdrop? Have you ever thought that it is not only the unforgettable face that leaves a deep impression in life? The familiar or unfamiliar backdrop fades in the crowd, do you have attachment, do you miss it? The back of the head turned away without expression tells you what?
When the vision is blurred, I only see a silhouette, when the thought is blurred, I only remember a back. In my memory there is a back that can never be erased, it is the moment when my mother turned to go out and cover the door. She had to go to the night shift, got up in the middle of the night, look at her sleeping son, so sweet, she was very pleased, and gently stepped over, tucked the corner of the quilt, pressed the bedding, look at a few eyes of the son's sleeping posture, think satisfied, and then gently backward out, gently bring the door, do not let out a little noise. Son all see in the eyes, in order to let his mother feel at ease to go to work, no longer worry about their own, he slept very "correctly", a little bit of no mess, from his subtle eyelids look out, through the window reflections into the faint night light, see is the mother's blurred shadow. Turning away, it was gone, and at last a sound of the gate closing below was heard, and the son knew it was his mother going to her night shift.
"When you're lonely who do you think of? ......" If this song was sung more than twenty years ago, I would say I have to think of my mother's shadow the most. Following the stone-piled fence, silently following the roots of the wall, there is no mother, but in the past she was here ah. Whenever she was empty, she could always be found here, at the most, she wouldn't go out of this neighborhood a bit. Gravel walls made of grass and dirt sound, I do not know now smell called fragrant flavor then why did not feel is a kind of enjoyment, but just added a few points of loneliness and despair, the wall poked out a variety of flowers and grasses and tree shadows, but only no mother's smile. Kindness, not here; happiness, did not find. I hope to see my mom's back suddenly appear in front of me, and I look forward to my mom coming over, calling out, and saying, "How did you find your way here?" And best of all, praise from mom. Happy even without praise, because Mom never criticizes, even if it's a rant, it's warm and fuzzy, love to hear Mom's voice, love to feel Mom's love. But not her back. Standing at this end of the road, looking at that one long end, there are stone walls, narrow passages, potholes in the stone road, I do not know when my mother will appear, the eyes are praying, the heart is helpless loneliness.
After a walk, I realized that I had given my child a backdrop. He walked in front, I followed behind, but he could not find me, he always saw only my back, a seemingly indifferent back.
When he grows up, he will know that there is a great love hidden in this back.
7. "Eyes" modeled after "Steps" essayEverything in the summer has long been calm, the grass mixed with the soil exudes a burst of faint fragrance, but my heart is like the surging and raging sea water, for a long time, can not be calm ...... "You do not understand me at all! " I said indignantly.
"Then you say, how do we go about it to be considered understanding?" My father slapped the table hard with his hand a few times, I looked up, just to meet the piercing gaze, I lowered my head again, I don't know what to say, perhaps, I don't know what is considered to be true understanding at this time, my father yelled again: "You pour it out!" I replied directly, "You guys just don't understand me anyway." I went straight out the door, turned back, and slammed the door hard again.
Inside the house, my father yelled again, "Don't come if you can!" I sneered, then walked aimlessly, when I came back to my senses, has come to an open field, turned to a dry land, sat down, with a hand on the face, thoughts, can not help but come to mind ...... "Dad, Dad!" I babbled, then hobbled over to my father. "Hey, my good son!" When I was a child, my father would always call me this way, and then my father would squat down and wrap his arms around his father's neck, holding the sugar gourd in his hand that he gave me.
Every time, I would use those dirty little hands to pull down a begonia and hand it to my father, who smiled and said, "No, eat it yourself." I said on my father's shoulder, "No, I want my father to eat."
My father passed his mouth and put the whole begonia in his mouth, and then said, "It's so sweet!" My father's words were full of sweetness. I then leaned on my father's shoulder, holding half a string of uneaten sugar gourds, with my father's lullaby slowly entered the sweet dreamland ...... Suddenly a leather coat over my body, I looked up, is on my father's kind gaze, that gaze, contains too much, and the eyes of understanding, I understand, what, is the real understanding.
The father's clear eyes, now has become a little cloudy, but unchanged, that still passes the eyes of God. The father opened his mouth and said, "It's getting dark, go home!" Six words, but y pierced my heart, I suddenly sobbed, think of yourself, has been endless shame, the father that is full of calluses but broad hands have shaken in front of my eyes.
I took the hand, along with my father's steady footsteps, little by little forward step ...... Tonight, sleepless. I sat on the bed, my heart surfaced some bits and pieces, all the father's shadow, those memories, will fill my heart with shame, do not know, is already the next morning, piercing sunlight reflected on the ground.
I slowly stood up and pushed open the door to my father's bloodshot eyes into my eyes, I know, my father did not sleep last night. He handed me a cup of hot milk and said, "Come on, it's time to go to school."
I took my father handed over the schoolbag, out of the door, has been walking forward, turn around, is on the father's gaze, until the father can not see me, I can not see him ...... I will not forget, my father's eyes of understanding, the eyes, has always accompanied me, encouraging me ... ... road, a teenager, sobbing .......
8. Write an essay on the topic of father's love in imitation of Li Senxiang's stepsSteps to the top
As the saying goes, "People go higher, water flows lower". In order to climb high, let us go all the way so hard!
From the time we can just understand people's language, parents in the ear to instill the concept of self-improvement to learn a good person. Neighbors, friends and family who have a talent to show their face, the family's story will become a topic of everyday life can not avoid. In that case, whether you interpret it as envy or jealousy, it will make you feel that if you can do the same, you will be envied by others. However, the logic of life tells us that no one can be successful at the drop of a hat! Who of us hasn't worked hard since we were kids? As a farmer, we may not have the ambition to ascend to the hall of heaven, but at least there should be some wife and dolls hot bed idea, right? The classroom may not have been in the classroom to do what scientific giants and masters of art, but trying to become favored by the teacher was recognized by his classmates as a good student is an indisputable fact. It is for these even some small and insignificant goals, we are painstakingly and painstakingly trekking. The process of trekking is just like climbing up the steps one by one, always just over a level and see a higher level, one level after another, leading to the boundless faraway land.
The road of life is not long, not short. We walk all the way, constantly picking up the stairs. Feeling a certain height, you want to stop and rest your feet, look at the peers were left behind, but found that the catching up swarmed, and then look to the front of the forerunner is still unremittingly forward, climbing higher and higher. The first thing you need to do is to get a good deal of money to pay for the work!
Who makes us unwilling to be mediocre? Who let us resist the temptation of high places? Not long ago, there are sages who warned us that "the high place is not cold"? Not very young have heard "people are afraid of famous pigs are afraid of strong" "out of the rafters first rotten" and other philosophies? Why do you still want to go forward like a moth to a flame?
It is not strange to feel incomprehensible. Because we have unconsciously injected an element in their blood, this element has long been internalized into our traits! Just as a bloodthirsty beast smelled the flavor of prey, even if it is full of food for three days without any appetite, it will still, as always, rushed forward. Constantly climbing over and challenging the infinite upward steps, not for any other reason, as if in order not to make the steps already crossed lose their significance, that is, in order to count how many steps upward there are in the end. This is the destiny of life!
Although we know that the upward steps can never be counted, although we are tired, but we have walked on the road. No matter how much more rugged this road, no matter how many steps ahead, "up" faith is like a lighthouse to guide us forward, as long as the lighthouse has an indestructible bright light flashes, we can never stop the steps forward!
9. "Steps" as a type of write an essayThe steps of life is the nourishment of affection, teachers and teachers, friends of the sharpening of the slow growth.
Steps are everywhere, all over the place, but that is only to make one's body forward, not the spirit of the forward. The steps of life are invisible, and they help our minds to progress every day.
Every glance of the teacher, a caring classmate is not a step up for your life! In the study, if I class perfunctory, the teacher's a look at me to remind me that I should be serious, then my heart of the steps will slowly more than one layer, that is to remind me that I should be serious about the study of the steps. In the test, I made a good score is complacent, the teacher will also give me a look, that look contains praise and criticism, praise me good test, criticized me for pride and arrogance, as the saying goes: "humility makes progress, pride makes people fall behind," how can I because of a small victory and stop moving forward.
I should try harder to move forward. At this time, my heart will gradually form a step, a step to work hard upward.
In life will encounter all kinds of frustration when students will secretly help you. Once, I was running, fell down and fell with a bruise, head bleeding, the students will one by one gathered around, some handing tissues, some comfort me, some help me, I care twice, then I was heavily surrounded by the love of the group.
Some people will throw a disdainful look, "arrogant" said: "This injury is nothing, need to make such a big fuss? Yes, this injury is nothing, do not need to make such a fuss, as long as where the fall where to get up is, because we are full of vitality good vitality of the youth ah! The steps to promote my courage were created one by one. Sometimes I would lie for fear of being scolded, and then I would blush.
Mom and Dad know that I lied but silent, just that stern and with gentle eyes alerted me, after a long time will be as such to say the truth, I do not understand why, but it should be buried in the bottom of the heart of the I was digging it! It was a look of praise. The steps of life is one more.
Steps big and small, more or less step by step is to the end but the steps of life on the false will disappear with the thought, leaving just that a brilliant, full of profound meaning of the steps of life.