Mother's hand excellent essay

In our daily study, work and life, we are all familiar with essay writing, which is a narrative method of expressing the meaning of a topic through words. The first thing you need to do is to write a good essay. The following is my organization of the mother's hand excellent essay, only for reference, we take a look at it.

That is a pair of rough hands, merciless years in the hands of the branding of a deep past, hand stomach a thin layer of callus. This is the mother's hand. I froze, life in the scattered, in this moment between the infinite magnification of ......

Winter, the cold wind is bitterly cold. Wrapped in four pieces of clothing, I looked clumsy. But I can't resist my active nature, jumping around all day long, and the clean clothes I just put on will be dirty in a few days. Mother and love clean, not accustomed to me wearing dirty, often teach this lesson that, but I always left ear into the right ear out, never listened to. Some particularly dirty clothes mother always first hand processed before putting into the washing machine, winter cold water soaked clothes. My mother was half squatting, bowing slightly, and she was trying to get the clothes ready. The water was taken away from the bucket by the mother's hand, and then flowed away from the gap between her hands, the foam piled up a little bit in the water, and when the old foam was broken, new foam floated in. The mother did not seem to notice the coldness of the water. She is still trying to cut the stains on the clothes, but did not pay attention to their own hands, has been cold water brushing become full of changes. Hands were frozen a little stiff, fingers became red ......

Mother finished washing clothes, and then turned to prepare lunch. "Ah!" A shriek came from the kitchen, "What's wrong?" I was startled, "Nothing!" My mother said, carelessly I didn't notice anything wrong at all. "Dinner's ready!" My mother shouted, and it was then that I realized that the startled cry my mother had just made turned out to be an injury! There was a long gash on my mother's hand. At this time, I have no regard for anything, and hurriedly brought cotton swabs to wipe the wound. But at this moment, I was stunned. Mom's teeth dead bite mouth insults, fight not to let themselves sound; eyes kept closing, open, closed, open. I know that my mother was holding back the pain and tears brought by the alcohol. Seeing my mother like this, I couldn't help but ease my movements. Another wound, "I thought to myself: when I was a child, the pair of delicate hands to dry my tears are gone, replaced by a pair of cold, rough, covered with calluses." Thinking about the eyes like what is covered, how can not see, suddenly, I feel something dripping on the face, most likely my tears. Mother found my abnormal, hastily wiped away my tears with her hand, the hand is so cold and rough, but I feel that the hand is so gentle and delicate, just like I cried as a child when the pair of gently wipe away the tears of the hand, so beautiful and gentle.

Mother's . Hands are warm, beautiful, gentle and rough. Mother with the hard hands, take up the home of the tedious, support the "half of the mountain".

Mother's hand excellent essay 2

Mother's hand is sweet dew, moisturizing my parched heart; mother's hand is a ladder, help me climb the peak of life; mother's hand as a ruler, always reminding me to always go straight ahead.

Mom's hand is warm, remember in my six years old, once I play fever, mom was anxious like ants on the hot pot, mom gently picked me up with her hand, her tender hand how can withstand such a large weight? Sure enough, I could feel my mom's hands shaking badly when I got into the cab, and my feet were accidentally twisted and swollen.

I was hospitalized, my mother was with me all night, I could not sleep, I really feel sorry for her, I can not help but pull up the warmth of my mother's hand, feel safe. A few days passed, I was discharged, but my mother's feet swollen like bread, the doctor suggested that my mother to take a film, my mother hard to take some cream, staggering, limping out of the hospital, the scene so that I will never forget, I can not help but shed tears, heart full of emotion.

Mom's hand is harsh, the child's growth is not without parents scolding. I remember once, I went out to play with my classmates, I scribbled the homework blindly write a pass, and finally forgot to check the rush to run out to play. After coming back, I heard the sound of "tearing" "tearing", into a look, it was my mother to tear down my homework one by one, I was angry and blame myself, crying to finish the homework.

Mom came over and stroked my head with her hand, gently said to me: "Baby, mom should not tear your homework, you do not cry, next time you can be more careful Oh! , finished mom kissed my forehead and smiled, I also smiled, because I know my mom is very strict with me, this time I was wrong. I sent the neat homework to the teacher and sweetly went to sleep.

Mom's hands are hard-working, I remember that day is the weekend, I think my mother can finally rest, but my mother got up early, began to make breakfast, clean up the house, and in the morning to Xian clothes, go to the market to buy food, and then return home to begin to prepare for lunch, my mother with the hard-working hands to make a road of colorful and delicious food. The mother's hand is like a machine has been constantly busy, I feel so sorry for her.

With the passage of time, mom's hands are no longer as smooth as before, white, but the hands used to hold me, with that full of tenderness to care for my growth. Mom's hands for me to fade the initial beauty, but add the beauty of motherhood and the greatness of maternal love. Mom, I love you so much!

Mother's hand is not beautiful, touch is not comfortable, but it is the warmest hand in my memory.

Before going to middle school, it was my mother who washed my hair. It was a pleasure to recall the feeling of my mother gently stroking my hair.

One winter, after dinner, my mother began to wash my hair. She filled a large pot of water, put her hand into the water to try the water temperature, said, "Just right." I bent down, my mother gently wet my hair with water, and squeezed some shampoo on the hand rubbed a few times and then wiped to my head, saying that this will not let me feel cold.

She carefully rubbed up, afraid of hurting me, the action is very gentle, like a spring breeze through my hair, gently, softly, warmly. The mother's hand also occasionally accidentally touched my forehead and ears, I can clearly feel the mother's hands callus more and more hard, and even make me a little uncomfortable.

From my memory, whenever I consciously or unconsciously expressed the roughness of my mother's hands, I always heard my father say: "Back then, your mother's hands can be beautiful!" But I was puzzled, how I never remember my mother had a pair of beautiful hands.

Mother seems to be a little tired, some of the waist is a little sour, she has to straighten down from time to time, adjust the posture, but the hand movement is still gentle. Mother stopped rubbing, immersed her hands in water, washed away the foam on the hands, without realizing it I saw the deep black scars ......

I remember I had a birthday one year, busy mother specially made a bowl of longevity noodles for me. I ate the delicious noodles made by my mother's hands, but my mother accidentally poured boiling hot water on her hands ...... To this day she still has a deep black scar on her hands.

My mother carefully washed away the foam on my head with water, from the base of my neck to my forehead, from my left ear to my right ear, every place was washed clean. Then she wiped her hands, which were no longer warm but still warm, and toweled off my hair, then took out the hair dryer and dried it for me.

She held the hairdryer in her left hand and stroked my hair with her right hand, blowing it from the roots to the tips, each movement so gentle and skillful. The hairdryer warmed the roots of my neck and ears, all the way to the depths of my heart. While my mom was tying my hair, I said as I handed her the headband, "Mom, you have beautiful hands." Mom lightly scraped the tip of my nose and laughed, "Little girl, coaxing me to be happy!"

Accompanied by the warmth of mother's love, I slowly grew up, no longer need my mother to help wash my hair. But my mother is always busy, and the calluses on her hands are getting more and more, and the deep black scars have never faded. Although my mother's hands are no longer as white as before, they have become the warmest and most beautiful hands in my memory. I said to my mother in the bottom of my heart, "Mom, my daughter will also wash your hair in the future ......"