In the ordinary study, work, life, we all often see the figure of essay, right? Essay is composed of words, after human thought consideration, through the organization of language to express the meaning of a theme of the genre. So, how to go about writing an essay? The following is my collection of nostalgia topic essay 8, welcome to read and collect.
Nostalgia topic essay Part 1Full of osmanthus fragrance, quiet and dark appreciation, just do not think, osmanthus will leave so early, become my blocked memory.
Childhood.
I want to go to pick the garden full of osmanthus, but always late, found that osmanthus early grandmother picked, neatly laid on the ground, to accept the reward of the sun, then, always thought why not come earlier! So I ran to my grandmother and asked her why she had picked all the osmanthus flowers. The next day, sniffing the fragrance of osmanthus cake when getting up, but ignored the wrinkles in the corners of the eyes of Grandma slack.
Growing up.
Growing up slowly, the osmanthus scent never left me, they accompanied me all the way. No matter how much wind and rain, remember the osmanthus fragrance, will be full of strength, because I know, osmanthus fragrance is full of grandmother's strong love.
Always thought that the laurel tree will not leave, but one day, a huge machine will be full of garden laurel razed to the ground, I jumped up, but Grandma was tightly dragged me, and then the great anger turned into tears of regret, rustling down. Turning my eyes, I saw, grandmother's eyes red, like crying. At that time, I did not understand, I do not know what kind of inner entanglement grandmother agreed to.
Now, turning back to my thoughts, as I did back then, I will turn the pain in my heart into nostalgia, into wisps of white clouds, hoping that they can carry my thoughts far away.
Through the window, looking in the direction of the hometown, I know, that is full of osmanthus roots, full of osmanthus home, but also osmanthus incense gathered place, more grandmother's love, grandmother given the warmth
Thinking of far away from the hometown of Grandma, can not help but soak wet eyes, childhood osmanthus incense, floated away, childhood warmth seems to be dispersed. Ran rising nostalgia do not know that the garden full of laurel can still hear, do not know whether the grandmother is well.
Turning around, my mother stood behind the door, smiling like a flower, and said, "Look, what did Grandma send you?" The lingering fragrance of osmanthus came from the parcel in my mother's hand, and I ran over to meet the aroma and smiled with delight, knowing that it was the fragrance of osmanthus cake, the most familiar flavor to me.
Received the package, looked at the square osmanthus cake, the heart overflows with warmth, but still in nostalgia, nostalgia for that full of osmanthus fragrance.
Whenever I take out the graduation photo of my elementary school, the familiar faces that I used to have come to my mind one by one, the one thing that was interesting, the classroom where we went to school together, the small playground that belonged to us, all the things that happened in the school are still fresh in my mind, and I miss my life in elementary school!
Yesterday, I went home from school, passed an elementary school, just when they were out of school, I suddenly remembered our former elementary school that school situation, that was a very pleasant thing, but unfortunately that has become my memories.
A few good friends and I went back to our old alma mater, which had changed a lot, but the only thing that hadn't changed was our favorite teachers and our nostalgia for them. The teachers were very excited and surprised to see us, and we chatted about the past, and we talked for a long, long time, and it seemed that we had endless topics to talk about!
I walked in the school no corner of the memory of our elementary school together with those crazy memories, we always come to the small playground in the classroom to play, jumping together, the class rushed back to the classroom together, it was a kind of how pleasant ah! ~~ After school we went home hand in hand, while talking and laughing, how beautiful picture, but now perhaps can not be reproduced it ......
Since the graduation, friends have been running to the West and rarely contacted, really very nostalgic about that is our life, so happy and happy, so free and easy. ......
Nostalgia Topic Essay Part 3When things pass away, people can feel its precious. --Title
Once your smile was clear and absolute, when the flowers bloomed all over the tree. I remember you and I met in the summer, the unknown tree in the school, is open wantonly. I remember when you were sad, I wiped your tears, when I was disappointed, you also comforted me, want me not to cry. I remember that I had no reservations and told you all my secrets. I remember a snowy day, goose feather snow fell down, fell all over the branches, fell all over the earth, the snow accumulates, people walk on it, there is a clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack. You said it was the last groan of the snow before it was killed by the people, and I laughed, laughed at those literary sayings of yours. I remember we also made the cheesy snowman, that silly look is really cute. I remember when the trees were indeed full of pear blossoms as Cen Shen wrote. People often say that I am poisonous, but I treat you with all my heart, I thought you understand. I speak from the heart, tears will flow, in the face of your relentless attitude, my heart is desperate like the oxygen-free river of heaven. Outside the window your favorite flowers bloomed, it rained, so strong, just like you like the same, I had the luxury of all the way to the wind and frost can be shared with you ...... I would like to write this article to my old friend. The best friend.
Nostalgia Topic Essay Part 4Nostalgia for the days of elementary school
Elementary school, is the baby eagle's waddling steps; is the sea in the absence of convergence into the time of the only drop of water; is a small mountain relying on the beautiful side of the mountain. The memories of elementary school are so beautiful ......
--Title
Once upon a time, I was just a child who would cry. Furthermore, I was a carefree elementary school student. And now, I have stepped into the hall of knowledge of the eighth grade ......
Memories of elementary school, is a dreamlike beauty, is sugar sweet, is baked chicken wings like incense.
I remember the physical education class, we have no idea what physical education class is for, so do anything: play house, stacking sandcastles, digging sand balls next to the school well, etc. ......
The physical education teacher came to the playground, not even a single shadow, look at that "embarrassment! The "awkwardness" is like "two feet high, can't figure it out" in general. The first thing I want to do is to make sure that I have a good understanding of what I'm doing and how I'm doing it.
A student said: "We first throw a bait - call a student first out to play hide and seek with the physical education teacher, so, ha ha ha ha ......"
Another student said: "I'm not sure if I can do it, but I'm sure I can do it," he said. p> Another student said: "Let the louder students jump to the back of the gym teacher to scare him, so that he knows how powerful we are ......"
Then, one by one, a "cruel trick
Think about it now, we have that heart also do not have the courage ah ...... eighth grade learning is so tense, you slightly relaxed, others will take advantage of the situation, rushed to your front. You have to know: you are slacking off, but others are working hard day and night ah!
Learning, to be down-to-earth, one step at a time ...... a breeze blew, swept me into a parent-teacher conference in the sixth grade ......
That time, the teacher instructed some of the students to come to the school Hou Tea and some performing literary program students to come to school. Things are done, but the meeting is still going on, we students have nothing to do, remembered to do some small games.
A classmate said, "Let's play the scary ghost catching game!"
"Yeah, yeah!" Many students thought it was good and I joined that game.
We turned off the 'lights in the corridor and the stairs, and the game started. ......
I was walking alone on the long corridor, and I always felt uneasy in my heart, when suddenly one of my classmates called out, "Run! The ghost is coming!" My feet were like a remote-controlled car out of control, like scrambling, escaped the "ghost" of the hunt ......
In this way, we in many fun and exciting games slowly grew up, our class so hand in hand through the happy elementary school! time and carefree childhood life ......
" On the willow tree by the pond, you can only hear the mockingbird calling incessantly ......" Humming the song "Childhood", the tears in My eyes were spinning ......
The section of the class, the sound of the "good teacher", the sentence of warm words. The teacher's eyes full of expectations for me, the friendly and affectionate eyes of my classmates are clearly imprinted in my memories.
There, there are my footprints of growth, there are traces of my fall and then get up again, there is the figure of my failure and then stand up again ...... There, where is it?
It is the elementary school, is my alma mater ...... elementary school is not as intense as the secondary school learning, not as busy as the secondary school life, and not as strict as the discipline of the secondary school ......
No matter what, is sour, is sweet, is bitter or spicy, it has become history. It's all history, it's in the past. Now waiting for us, is a greater test, but also the choice of life ......
Elementary school, is so beautiful, is so sweet, is so fragrant. That is a place full of laughter, that is a place full of a child's face, that is a place of life enlightenment, that is - elementary school!
Being in the ninth grade, I miss the days of elementary school ...... but that is the past, we can only put this page of happy and beautiful time, clamped into our "life" of this profound book ... ...
Nostalgia Topic Essay Part 5If time can really go back, I am very willing to go back to the happy childhood, to re-enjoy the carefree moments of childhood. But it's a pity! Time is like running water, dripping past the dots and dashes will never reappear. Walked the road to look back, although the footprints string, but there are straight and oblique, deep and shallow. The loss of years has been written all over our face, has been carved on our face a road mark, childhood when the childlike appearance has long disappeared without a trace.
Think of our childhood play together with the partners, now has long been a wife and wife, father and mother, some even when the grandparents, and some have been lying in the dark cold underground, perhaps already turned into dirt. The road we walk today is a repeat of the footprints of our grandfathers and fathers, but we sweat far less than our grandfathers and fathers to pay the hard work. We have stepped on their footprints walked through many journeys, there are many more dangerous twists and turns to be pioneered, life is real, you need to be true to face. In the journey of life on the happy and sad is coexisting, depending on how you face, there are difficult times do not decadence, daylight smooth days calmly, always have a kind of sunshine mind, your life will not have trouble with you.
We all have a dream in our hearts, but I always believe that no one will be close to the dream, on the contrary, are still far from far away! Because life is not a bowl of rice seasoned with a spoonful of salt is enough, that only one flavor. In fact, life is not a flavor, but the sweet and sour and sweat made of the hundred flavors! Walked the road back to go again not necessarily familiar, the road ahead has not yet opened up, but it will be very difficult. We have been bruised and swollen, we are already full of holes, maybe we are fragile like just out of the soil skin shoots, can not withstand the collision, can not withstand the wind and rain, but we must also learn to be tough! Because there is still a long, long way behind us need to go step by step, the same amount, there are many helplessness for you to face, so that you need to be tested. Maybe some people will not go down a road, in his life on the road may appear fork in the road, choose the right will be happy life, choose the wrong will regret half a lifetime. Therefore, this requires us to have a good cultivation and a high level of wisdom. I believe that every person who can survive to middle age has a tough heart, I also believe that every middle-aged people in the face of the fork in the road of life will have an accurate judgment, have a correct choice!
Happy childhood will never come back, it will always become the past, always become a good memory. The future also needs us to open up, the difficulties still need us to face bravely, successful heart comfortable, a cup of wine, let the mood, let the heart soar; failed not to be discouraged, still a cup of wine, let yourself get drunk once, woke up and continue to struggle, I believe that as long as there is a resilient heart, the difficulties will ultimately be strong to overcome, and perhaps the success will not be far away from themselves. Believe in yourself!
Nostalgia topic essay Part 6This afternoon and they went to the elementary school to play badminton, just in front of that big square in front of a stage there to pick. Really, standing on that stage, there is a feeling of that year.
There have been many of our fond memories, that is our students' world, after class there will be "gathered" a lot of students, of course, we are also included in the play there, play the most when the number of "three words" and "one-legged jump" and "one-legged jump". "These two games were also our favorites at one time. Now, standing on that stage, we can no longer play these games, everything can only be nostalgic. Badminton shuttle back and forth between us, I seem to feel the flavor of childhood.
Road to, I quite miss the elementary school time, although there was once lonely, but overall my elementary school career is still quite full, quite nostalgic. We three, it is from elementary school has been to the present good friends, said that time will dilute the friendship, but in us, but not fulfilled, we are once had contradictions, but we are still good friends. We miss everything that was once here.
Touching the pale, low walls, Z said, "I remember when we could not even jump over!" And now? It's already too short for us, but it was too high for us in our childhood.
Next to a corridor, there are a few children playing "touch the goldfish", I found the feeling of that year from their play, as if I was back to childhood. I watched them, almost forgot to catch the ball, and then suddenly came a lightning reaction, out of force, the ball is finally caught, but does not seem to press down. The powerful sound of the racket hitting the badminton ball, that's us feeling the passion of youth; next to the children's laughter, that's them enjoying the time of joy. This moment as if time and space interlaced, childhood and youth met.
I miss the time of the year, childhood, we can not be like that group of children, carefree, enjoy the joy of childhood time. Yes, the lost childhood is wonderful, like a shooting star, just a moment of beauty, but can leave an eternal mark.
The racket waved in our hands, and the badminton shuttle back and forth between us. Really, this moment to really feel that they have grown up, only to realize that childhood has become an eternal mark.
We all miss the time of elementary school, miss the good of the year, but people always have to grow up, people will always grow up.
Since childhood has passed away, all that remains is nostalgia, so let it fall naturally, so that the imprint of childhood in the depths of the mind stored forever.
Childhood is gone, only nostalgia; and youth is at the moment, it is the moment to enjoy!
Pure is a kind of happiness, can be hidden in the heart of the warm little happiness.
Sometimes I miss, miss a certain fall, miss the thoughts about a falling leaf. Watch it fall and dance little by little disappeared in the sky, gradually and the field of vision through a line, by the wind a piece of a piece of blowing forward, until disappeared invisible, so pure moment.
Sometimes I miss, miss a snow, miss about having a flying, silver-white dream. The whole world is wrapped in silver, pear blossoms, fluttering, white and flawless, and suddenly I feel immensely holy, unattached, so pure picture.
Sometimes I miss, miss about having a flying, silver-white dream. The whole world is wrapped in silver, pear blossoms, fluttering, white and flawless, and suddenly I feel incredibly holy, unattached, so pure picture.
Sometimes I miss, I miss a group of people, I miss the scene about the school together, I miss the sunset spreading endless joy, I miss talking and laughing together, I miss the fight, I miss the smiling faces that ring back in my memory, I miss the language of those who are somewhat hilarious, Yiyi, Yiran in front of my eyes, so purely miss.
Sometimes nostalgic, nostalgic for a person quietly listening to music, nostalgic for a song about a song, let the music clarify the noise of the mind, nostalgic for the color of childhood, nostalgic for the previous happy gloss, infiltrated with the time of the melody in the heart spreads, sketched out the child's smiling face, so pure childhood.
Sometimes nostalgic, nostalgic for a friendship, nostalgic about not really a long time ago, nostalgic for the previous *** with the treasured secrets, and then your name deep in the heart, over and over again, until I will not forget, we still have to laugh, but also greasy with, so pure to stay.
Sometimes I miss, miss the bone-chilling cold, miss the warmth about a word, miss the frozen shivering cold, miss running slowly stopping, feel the faint warmth welling up in my heart, like the petals of a flower that exudes a faint fragrance, so pure warmth.
Sometimes miss, miss the original dream, miss about sunflower-like sunshine, miss the previous self always said that there is a pair of wings, miss the previous loudly said to fly, miss their own said to row the oars, sailing to the far away, and now feel confused, lost direction, a person wandering, so pure dream.
Sometimes I miss, cared for, miss about a name miss, miss, sigh now ordinary, quiet ......
Between the fingers rowing two dotted line, can not be wrapped around some slight thoughts.
Pure, beautiful, ordinary.
Between the fingers, blue.
There is a sound that makes the middle-aged painter Hiroshi Ihong more and more nostalgic. This sound is very wonderful, there are colors, shapes, temperatures, and miscellaneous emotional stories. But now can no longer be heard, to be precise, can not be felt.
This sound is called rain. The sound of rain comes continuously from the direction where he was born and grew up. Spring rain, summer rain, fall rain, winter rain.
When it rained, his father would always stand on the steps of the old house, listening to the sound of rain in a yard, as if drunk. Then he called him to his side and told him many ancient poems about rain: "night rain cut spring leeks" "plum yellow rain" "sycamore leaves on three rain" "Stay with the remnants of the lotus to listen to the sound of the rain"...... he could not understand, but he saw the sound of the rain was dyed by the flowers and leaves on the brilliant colors.
Then, they returned to the hall and sat down, Dad said: "Listen to -" these two words after countless repetitions, his ears have become sensitive: the rain is first small and dense, falling on the thin small green tile, tinkling, like pearls in the jade plate The sound of the raindrops on the thin little green tiles, tinkling and thumping, like beads of pearl in a disk of jade; the sound of the glass tiles set up for the purpose of light, sharp and brittle, like the high scales in the sound of a zither; the sound of the raindrops hitting on the wooden sunroof, delicate and polished; but the sound of the raindrops on the carved cornice boards in the front hall, the opposite, mellow and ancient; the sound of the rain resonating on the linen stone steps, calm and full of strength. The rain became heavier and denser. He heard the sound of rushing water, coming from the wooden pipes that ran along the eaves of the house. The old house was crisscrossed with underground waterways, and the sound of the water was as urgent as the roar of golden drums.
There is a saying in the old city: "When it rains, it stays." He remembers that when it rains, there are guests in the house who arrive unannounced, all of them his father's closest friends. Was the rain an invitation?
The sound of the rain, he grew up, became a family, made a father ...... alleys, old houses and rain, became the most bizarre undertones of his life. On rainy days, he also told his son those ancient poems about rain. On rainy days, his drawing room will always have a close friend to join together.
Spring rain, summer rain, fall rain, winter rain.
Suddenly, one day, this large piece of land was allocated to a real estate developer, and he moved into Century Garden with his family in disappointment. The alley is gone, the old house is gone, and the sound of rain in his memory is gone!
Huge regular cement box, embedded with a nest constructed of concrete, glass and steel. The sound of rain took on a dull gray color, the rhythm dull and depressing. It wasn't the sound of rain he'd ever felt! He would feel extraordinarily bored on every rainy day. He would walk from the drawing room to the eaves of the terrace, and from the eaves of the terrace to the drawing room, as isolated as a leopard in a trap.
He decided, hire some carpenters, make a roof on the terrace, wooden roof frame, covered with small green tiles, embedded with glass tiles. He wanted to get that sound back. He also got a porcelain round table, four drum-shaped porcelain stools, a red clay fireplace for burning charcoal, and a green ceramic tilting pot for boiling water.
When it rains, he sits here to cook and make tea, and sits quietly to listen to the rain. The front of the terrace is open, he looked up and saw a tall building, neatly arranged; all the windows are equipped with shiny security windows, the back of the windows are draped with thick curtains, afraid of someone prying into the privacy of their own homes; the outer walls are hung with air conditioning units, like an unsightly tumor ...... such a background, would never be born! a classical sound of rain!
He realized that in the coming days, he will eternally miss the sound of rain. It was a rainy day. He suddenly left the terrace and hurried into the silent drawing room ......
He hoped to draw that long ago sound of rain on rice paper ......