Remembering my father essay father's old house (selected)

? I still remember the old house where I lived with my father when I was a child. The following is my carefully collected and organized to bring you the "nostalgic father essay father's old house (selected)" for your reference and use, I hope you share!

Remembering my father essay father's old house (selected) (Part I)

I thought I had always known my father well, but I couldn't figure out why my father was dead set on keeping that old house.

The low old house, left alone in the wind and rain, time eroded its door. When I wandered through the door, only some of the usual small things still linger in my memory.

In my memory, my grandfather liked to sit in the doorway, smoking dry cigarettes, squinting his eyes, bowing his waist, a look of intoxication. Sometimes he choked and turned red in the face, and hastily recruited me to give him a back rub. That scene day after day, year after year. A touch of the sun falls and rises, rises and falls, staining the door of the old house red. For a long time, the door creaked and swayed in the wind, and I could hear how desolate the sound was. Later, my grandfather left, and the man sitting in front of the door of the old house disappeared. Later, after moving to a new home, Grandma often returned to the old house to sit in silence, two eyes dazed, the family could not persuade her. At that time, I already know, the old house carries the grandmother too many memories and sentimental. I remember that my grandmother also liked to lean against the door of the old house to chatter, nagging some of my curious past. Occasionally there are a few old ladies gathered in the old house to talk about family matters: whose children are unfilial ah, who first into the ground, whose family lack of salt and rice, rely on everyone to help and so on. The grandmother occasionally complained that the bad old man went too early, I held in tears, listening to the grandmother whimpering, seemingly unintelligible.

As time passes, the old house is crumbling. The village people also advised Dad to demolish the old house, Dad did not agree. He walked to the door of the old house, murmured: stay it, when I'm old, but also live in the old house. I know what he meant, grandparents are here to go, and Dad has been in middle age, naturally thought of their own home. However, at that time, I didn't understand why my father chose the old house. I only saw my father did not squeak, touched the door, turned and walked away, seemingly with tears.

Now, I stand in front of the old house, and do not want to touch the dusty past, because there are some things like this old house, too much too much experience, but let us silent. Perhaps growing up, I gradually understand my father's old house. The old house is the place where grandpa and grandma have lived for most of their lives, and where they have stored the memories and times of their father and their **** together.

Dazzling the silent vicissitudes of the years, because yesterday and today as the door of the old house, carved too many too many marks, but can let us wake up from the confusion, so that we are self-reliant.

Standing in front of the door of the old house, thinking about the usual small things, understand the old house and the father of that heavy sense.

Nostalgia for my father essay father's old house (selected) (Part II)

With a kind of inexplicable sadness, open the rusty iron lock on the wooden door, push the door and enter, familiar and unfamiliar feeling came to me. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it. The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night. After the final exams of the second year, back home, I know that the results have been sent to my father's cell phone, my father has become a necessity for my downfall. That day my father said to me: when will you stand up? Said turned to leave. My father's words let me immediately hit rock bottom, the whole day is not in the state.

The next day, I got up early, took a deep breath of air was washed by the rain, stepped on the soft ground, strolling in the road to the old house. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it. He looked up and saw me coming, and immediately asked me how I did on the exam, I shook my head and just said: not good grandpa was silent. After a while grandpa said: come with me, son. I followed my grandfather, came to a grape arbor. The original turquoise grape vines, full of life, hidden under the leaves of a mention of full grapes, such as purplish emerald eye-catching. But in front of the grapevine, under the attack of last night's rainstorm, the vines scattered all over the place, I was stunned to look at the grapevine in front of me out of mind.

Grandpa squatted down and seriously picked up the vines one by one.

Children, hold the grapevine, I will dig some soil to fix them.

Pack them up, in the ground to grow can not, why do you need to support these grapevines? I asked curiously.

Silly child, the grapevine only set up, in order to fully absorb the sunshine, bear more sweet fruit, people are the same, only stand up to thrive. I was enlightened, looked up, saw a few new shoots under the grape leaves, light green leaves with white fluff, is slowly saving energy, as if to spread the branches and leaves to the fullest.

I felt a touch of cold across my face, and the memory came to an abrupt end. The grapevine outside the door has spread half of the yard, I also stood up, grandpa, do you see?

Listening to the old house talking, remembering the people in time, and thriving in the whisper of the old house.

The old house is located in the eastern suburbs of the county, because of the rugged terrain, sparsely populated, known as the "East Uyenne". the late 90's, with the process of urbanization in the countryside, the head of the village house less, even if there are also turned over to a new bungalow, the only old house has always stood. Only the old house has remained standing. For more than thirty years, Mr. Xu has been here, never leaving. In the 1980s, Mr. Xu, who went to high school, was one of the few "intellectuals" in town. 1986, Mr. Xu, who had been a substitute teacher in the village for many years, was faced with a dilemma - either to be promoted to work in the city or to stay in the old house. The company's website is a great source of information about the company's products and services, and the company's website is a great source of information about the company!

Located on the border of Egan, south of the Mofu mountain range, north of the upper reaches of the Fu River, the "old house" is an old revolutionary area, as early as in the period of the domestic revolutionary war, the ****production party of the Eighth Route Army, the Kuomintang, the Japanese are stationed in this place. Mr. Xu's grandparents grew up here, even though every single person in the village had the idea of going out.

At the end of the 20s, because of salary issues, the reservoir area every year to lose a large number of teachers, not everyone can withstand such hardship, but Xu Lao still insisted on here. He said that despite the fact that the "old house" is surrounded by water on three sides, one side of the back of the mountain, geographically remote, poor natural resources, but his ancestors have grown up here, not to mention that the "old house" has more than a hundred children.

After the burden of three children at home, Xu had no choice but to leave the old house for more than a year. But in May 2010, when the H1N1 influenza virus infected the Old House, all the volunteers in the village dispersed, and Mr. Xu quickly returned to the Old House. The old house is still standing, but a little tired.

In October 2011, in order to cooperate with the Hubei Provincial Women's Federation, the Provincial Women and Children's Development Foundation, Chutian Jinpao, Sina Hubei jointly organized the "10,000 left-behind children to fulfill their dreams" large-scale public welfare activities, I contacted Mr. Xu, a detailed understanding of the "old house". I contacted Principal Xu and learned more about the "old house" and wrote the material for the newspaper. A short two calls, the most memorable is his "thank you, very grateful" and so on, I'm a little ashamed to say, as if all the "old house" the burden of all in him alone, and other shoulders of the heavy responsibility of people is to give grace and him. Imagine, one day the old house together with him a piece of how to fall. But the old house has always stood, free from worry.

Early March, my sister came to the phone, said to ask for support. It is very puzzling, the father just gave enough not long ago she, and how the deficit. Repeatedly asked, only to know that her friend's father is seriously ill, borrowed in an emergency, and her friend's father is Xu Lao. I shuddered slightly, just looking for that old house, urging her to find some public service organizations, government agencies and so on, after all, alone we are still beyond our reach. After that, because of a series of work and study tasks, I gradually faded away from the figure of Ms. Xu, not to mention that the old house is still standing.

Until last week, I talked to my sister again and realized that Mr. Xu was gone. The first thing I did was to ask for a reason. My sister said, "His family was originally penniless, not to mention the tens of thousands of dollars a day in Tongji Hospital to spend on medical expenses." "What about his family?" I asked. "The family has three children, the younger one is in college, the older one has just been newly married, and the family was originally reorganized. So, after transferring to the regional hospital, for the sake of his children, he himself eventually chose to give up treatment."

After the end of the call, I had a hard time for half a day. Looking up at the blossoming April day, only to feel a piece of cold shivering, the heart is like turning over a bottle of five flavors. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to get it right, but I'm sure you'll be able to get it right.

Fresh air, beautiful water, pleasant scenery, the natural scenery is very beautiful old house of the village will always be here, the small green tile roof, the eaves decorated Edward, brick and tile quality wing corner of the old house is still standing, the only thing he - Xu Lao, like a wisp of green smoke from the back of the mountain, floating remote in the eaves on the beams, and soon disappeared in the blue sky and blue sea.

Memory of my father essay father's old house (selected) (Part IV)

The green brick roof that is the old house of others, and my old house is yellow soil, black tiles, wooden plank door and has long been a little bit of hole, that is the termites patronized after the traces left behind, the ground still retains a thick soil, perhaps for a long time no one stepped on the ground moss is also mixed with the dust, the ground has long since been seen in the color of the yellow mud.

Listen to my father said, the old house of yellow soil and black tiles, is the grandfather's hands and feet of their own hands to build up the wall of yellow soil from hundreds of meters away from the foot of the mountain back, and sand and lime and then little by little pounded up, we call this wall made of wall to do the "wall of yellow soil".

Uncle is always talking to our younger generation, they often sat next to Grandpa when they were young to listen to those stories: in the war, this loess room has many times as **** production party members of the grandpa and grandpa to provide a hiding place, even after the rain of bullets swept through the loess wall just left some bullet holes, which can be a medal of the war in the old house.

When the war was over, Grandpa started a family in this old house. Although the family is not rich, but my father's generation of siblings still have a happy childhood: with a straw rope carrying just caught fish across the old house, with a new harvest of marbles popped out of the house, carrying a newly tied kite to run outside, the festival, young and old always like to get together in the living room of the old house in twos and threes to talk about a certain exciting topic, the crowd will always rise up, and the joy of it all. These things are small, but the record of the old house in the peace of the happy scene.

This old house has witnessed the generations of people who have fallen to the ground, and succeeded in their studies, to start their own families and even to live and die. Watching every girl wearing a white wedding dress in the elders of the pull out of the threshold to get married, watching every boy to marry the beautiful bride stepped into the threshold, watching the newborn baby after the birth of an endless stream of blessings sent into the home, but also watched the death of the elders were loved ones to send away from home. All of these human tragedies have been recorded in the history of the old house.

After many years, push open the mottled wooden door, the smell of decay, the corner of the lower hall grew a small sapling, the nests of the swallows between the beams are still there, the old wooden tables and chairs on the hall has long been covered with dust, next to the patio has long been the spring rains have been the moisturizing of grass and moss, in the growth of the ground in the gray and black ground, but can not find a trace of footprints, it seems that there has never been anyone stepped on it.

Years passed, slowly, the old house can no longer withstand the weight of time, after a downpour of water, the beams have been inserted straight next to the wooden table, the sun filled the entire wet land, the corner of the saplings more and more delicate, and the dust of the wooden table and chairs in the air cheerfully fluttering, the ground of the gray-black land but more than a string of footsteps, accompanied by footsteps is the children and grandchildren over and over again, but I don't know what to say. But I don't know who brought up the idea of rebuilding a new house, but the footprints on the land increased uncontrollably, coming and going, buzzing about the distribution of the land.

The old house, is a witness to history, it witnessed the history of the Chinese people during the war of resistance against Japan, but also witnessed the happiness and joy of peacetime; the old house, is the depository of memories, touching each piece of tile, full of our deep memories of the predecessors and thoughts; the old house, is the joy of the children and grandchildren, eat, drink and play as much as possible from this departure.

I hope that the new house can carry our children and grandchildren's laughter!

Memory of my father essay father's old house (selected) (Part V)

Childhood memories are as crystal clear as pearls, lingering. The river of memory is still flowing slowly, the river walks the footprints of the old past will be washed not all the old dye, hometown of the river is still in the remorseless, according to the initial trajectory of running, galloping. However, I can't wash away the dark fragrance of my heart that has been sealed for a long time, and the memory of the old house is clearer and clearer in the river and the rich shade of the trees. The door of memory suddenly opened. It was as if my thoughts rolled down into the dusty torrent at once, and I was struggling to climb, a burgundy rope connecting the old house with my parents and my siblings.

The old house is located in my hometown of Xing'an League of Inner Mongolia, Zhalaid Banner, an ordinary mountain village, from my memory, the old house and I have a constant love affair, the old house has witnessed my growth, but also left a family of footprints of the struggle, said he is the old house, not it has a long history, it did not go through the changes of the history of the more not experienced the wind, rain and snow, it is just the immortal in my heart! The first thing I want to do is to get rid of it.

See it, as if back to my childhood, saw our family sitting around the table to eat when the cozy scene, mom did a good job of cooking, and dad every day before the meal to put the dishes on the table scene, and I was sitting at the table with my siblings and waiting for dinner, and sometimes shouted, hurry up ah! Until today, I still see it clearly. Now that I've grown up, I've adopted my childhood habit of waiting for my wife to call me to eat. I am grateful to my wife for her understanding.

In this adobe, we grew up happily, and sometimes naughty will be scolded by mom and dad, after scolding, they will still reach out a loving hand for me to reason, tell me how to behave. I know that they love me, therefore, in my young mind buried the seeds of love, the soul of gratitude has been deep into my bone marrow. Every nerve and every blood vessel is bubbling. Time is like water, time is like a song, along with the approach of the footsteps of youth, I also gradually grow up.

I remember a summer night in junior high school, the sky lightning and thunder, only to listen to the roof of the house singing la-la-la hymn, the rain, such as flow, such as splash. The old house is also experiencing a baptism of wind and rain. As a result of years of maintenance, but also issued the first 20 years of crying, the gurgling sound, woke up the sleeping us, parents anxious, how to do ah! Where is the money ah! It was not easy to get through to the morning, the sky is also clear, Dad rushed to the neighbors called to repair the house. The old house was repaired, and our family laughed and played again. The old house witnessed all this, and also embraced our family tightly together. With the hard work of mom and dad, our family's life got better and better. Mom and Dad began to have new plans to build a new house. All of us kids cheered when we heard that we were going to live in a new house! We were going to live in a new house! It's a brick and mortar structure.

Hope is always with the disappointment of life, the dream of the broken, always so shocking, he quietly nourished with his snuggle that person, stone broken to tease the autumn rain, autumn rain cold to shine sleepless. The fall of that year, I got into the Xing'anmeng Normal School, for our family is a happy thing ah! The parents are very happy, everyone said, happy, they are worried, the house is not, the old house is not.

September 10, the day of school, parents still made the most important decision of their lives for me to go to school, they put the family's only 10,000 yuan to me, and happy to me, you finally have success, mom and dad intend to build a new house, and now can only delay the delay. Looking at their face covered with vicissitudes, full of thorns hand, my heart like a knife cut pain, that money is how many years of hard work in exchange for ah! Teardrops also involuntarily overflowed like a spring. With my parents' great expectation, I finished the broadcasting year of teacher training as I wished, and the old house also withstood the baptism of wind and rain, and he became stronger and braver, and it was hobbling along, as if the old man was old enough to make people feel the freshness of life. It is also at the mercy of, and favor this kind of family.

Time is like a stream, the title page of the time in the non-stop turning, the wheel of history over how many thorns, bumps. Suddenly, in 2004, I stepped into the ranks of the people's teachers in the Zhaqi Chole Middle School to work, received a phone call from my mother, said that the side walls of the house soil due to the impact of the rain slipped all over the ground, the father's body is deteriorating, let me go back and she wiped the wall together. I rode a motorcycle and couldn't wait to get back to the house to plaster the wall with my mother. When I saw my mother smiling with relief, I went back to school. I vowed that I would let my parents live in a brick house within five years, but dreams often linger in reality, and I can't bear to let go of them, and the wings of my dreams are once again broken.

In 2005, my father was unwell, checked the advanced stage of liver cancer, can only support three months, three months after he took the home of the reluctance and attachment to the old house of the deep love and friendship forever closed his eyes. The old house was once again set aside, the lonely old house only mom lived alone, although the reality deviated from the initial human, but people are always the messenger of victory.

At the end of 20xx, I got married and had my own new house, mother's life of hard work, I advised her many times to live with me, but she couldn't bear to leave the old house, I know that there is a father's shadow, there are strings of memories of our childhood, there are parents for us to weave a colorful dream, there are our siblings snuggled up in front of her playful playful feelings, there are we look up at the sky counting the stars of the naive and innocent childhood. The childhood of our parents. Father left, he left in such a hurry, did not enjoy a day of blessings, he often said: there is a home, your mother and I are not afraid of suffering, what difficulties will pass. Yes! There is nothing happier than a family together.

Now, 10 years have passed, the old house has witnessed the vicissitudes of our family, but also accompanied us through the 30 years of life, today, above it has been built a brick structure of the new house. He is spacious and bright. Every time we siblings meet in the old mom's house, will from time to time mention the old house, sometimes also slightly sad. Yes! How can we forget the old house with us, how can we forget the old house clustered around the family of five people when the scene. That old house through the wind and snow attack but still standing, that is not my father? Confidence, optimism, open-minded, hardworking, kind

The old house is gone, it is gone so sad, we have been trying to put the most beautiful coat on him, but he was carrying a deep regret left, he collapsed at the moment, I think he was still with stubbornness, with aggression. Now that I think about it, I really can not bear to scatter, perhaps he is the brightest star in the sky, in witnessing the past and present.

The old house, I will always remember that day in 2005. The old house is well!

The old house, you are the old face in my heart.