I am at the end of the world, but my heart is in my hometown. Essay 1
I am wandering around in a foreign land, alone and helpless. I often look at the stars in the distance and count the stars in the sky.
Every time I walk on a crowded road, I miss my relatives in my hometown. This may be a feeling shared by people who are wandering abroad.
I am an emotional person and have never left my home much since I was a child. Except for the time when I was in college. Perhaps because of this, I am more inseparable from my home than others. . I often wake up crying in my dreams, dreaming about returning home, and dreaming about my parents at home. I always want to return to my hometown in my dreams. Although I am wandering outside, my heart has already returned home.
Time flies and keeps spinning, and I am one step closer to going home. I go to the station to take out this valuable ticket in advance, put it away carefully, and embark on the return journey with joy. It washed away the fatigue caused by my night shift. I didn't think about anything else, I just wanted to give my loved ones a big hug when we met.
I long for the time at home to pass more slowly, and even more slowly. It is best if time can stop. There is always endless things to say and endless things to do, but half a month still flies by. The passage of time left me slightly unprepared. I just wanted to spend more time with my parents at home, but I was afraid that time would be too rushed, and I didn’t know how long it would be before the next meeting, so I turned down many invitations from relatives and friends.
I also wanted to buy a one-way ticket and never come back, but the reality was not what I expected. The cruel real life forced me to leave my hometown and come to this place. This city does not belong to me, and the fast pace of life makes me breathless, but I still don’t have a definite answer as to why I came here.
Drifting in a city with bustling traffic and flashing neon lights, drifting in a vast sea of ??people, I have experienced pain, sadness, and helplessness. I once stood on a high building and looked at my distant home. It is a song of longing. A piece of nostalgia.
This is also a true reflection of my inner self as a wanderer. Life is filled with bitterness and tears are already everywhere. Although there are countless sights in the big city, they are not as good as one at home.
We are at the end of the world, but our hearts are in our hometown. Home is always our destination. I am at the end of the world, but my heart is in my hometown. Essay 2
During the Qingming Festival holiday, my friend asked me: Where are you going to play these two days? I thought about it and just smiled and replied: I want to go home.
I want to go home, such ordinary words, but they are filled with the dreams of countless wanderers. More than ten years have passed by in a blink of an eye, and I have become farther and farther away from my hometown. Especially my mother’s appearance has become increasingly rare.
I remember that the last time I went home was two weeks ago. It didn’t seem very far away. Two weeks, day by day, passed by in a blink of an eye, but for a person wandering outside, In other words, two weeks is so far away.
Going home means going back to your hometown, watching your parents sitting on chairs, chatting about what they have encountered these days, about themselves, and about the future. If you think about it, I am a person who almost always goes home when I am on vacation. This has never changed in the past few years. Why do I always love going home? Because home is the starting point of dreams, a place where people will always be intimate in this life.
I remember that my mother often cut grass in the fields, and the wind from nowhere was blowing in the valley. The sound of the wind was sad, and I stood in the bamboo forest that had been withered by the years, quietly staring at my mother, in my mother’s hands. Her sickle was rusty, but her heart seemed to be still more than ten years ago.
However, I may not be able to go back this time. Why is life always full of unknowns? When you think everything is going to happen, suddenly all hope is cut off. I am walking on the street corner. , look at the flashy scene in the city, and watch all kinds of expensive vehicles coming and going. I want to go home! But I can’t go back, and I don’t know if my mother’s white hair has grown again in the past two weeks, or if the corn grown at home has grown?
I raised my head and looked up at the sky. Although it was no longer as pure as before, the white clouds floating in the sky were still white, and the shadow of my hometown seemed to be behind the white clouds. When I was a child, I often heard my mother say: If you leave home one day and want to come back, look at the blue sky behind the white clouds, that is your hometown.
But after staring for a long time, I still couldn't see the shadow of my hometown. Only the white clouds were moving quietly. I don't know when they were completely lost, leaving a blue sky as if it had never appeared. How nice would it be to have a home there? I want to take a look at my hometown, think about the bamboo forest on the mountain behind my house, think about the pond where crucian carp is raised, and think about my mother’s smiling face.
Walking towards a food store, the owner looked to be a man in his fifties, with sparse white hair and wrinkled face. What do you want, young man? I looked at him and thought of my father in the distance. He was the same way. There was a kindness in his white hair. But if I think carefully, I haven't seen my father for a long time. Life! Could it be that I came to this world just to be separated again and again, after separation from my hometown, after separation from my parents, and finally, after separation from myself? Is it so difficult for us to return to our hometown?
Um, sorry! I walked over and took a look. Then I replied, I seemed to see the disappointed face of the shop owner, but I still didn't see it in the end. Following the direction of the wind, I walked out, and followed the wind, passing by the wilderness, passing by one after another. A dream. But the face of my hometown came to my mind again.
Why do I always choose to go back to my hometown? Because my hometown is the place where I was born and my dream, but going back is always too far away. Hope is always further away. I am at the end of the world, but my heart is in my hometown. Essay 3
My mother said that she liked that piece of music. She gestured and said that she seemed to have heard it somewhere. I fiddled with my phone and tuned it to that piece of music. She straightened her reading glasses and then read the book in her hand. Come on, will you read this paragraph? Look how nice it is. She started talking in her native dialect. Some of the words were pronounced with a particularly strong emphasis. I laughed out loud as I listened.
Dad stood up from the sofa with some annoyance and said impatiently: Stop reading, stop reading. If you continue reading, I will go out to play. Haha, at this moment, my mother's eyes really lit up like fire, shooting out from above the drooped reading glasses. My father pretended not to notice, rubbed his eyes and sat down again. I quickly smoothed things over and said, Dad, don’t you have a backache? Come on, come on, let me knock it for you. Dad was lying obediently at the end of the bed, and I knocked on his waist. Mother sat on the edge of the bed and muttered. I looked up and looked out the window. The poplar trees were still rustling in the night, and there were crickets. There should be toads, I thought in a daze, why do I still feel that the night is so quiet?
These days should be a limited number of days. I always want to use some profound and incisive sentences to summarize it. I always want to use the most accurate scale in the world to measure it. How I want to use my lifetime to measure that kind of warmth that cannot be seen or touched, that kind of warmth that even life A bond that is about to stop and has no rest.
My mother was lying on my left side at night, next to me. I pointed to the two open windows and said, Mom, why are there no stars yet? Do you remember that when I came back last year, we went for a walk in the village. The stars were all over the sky, like a woven net. Mother said yes, the weather last year was nice and warm and not as cold as now. This year is an early year and everything is ahead of schedule. October has passed and there is indeed not much left in the year. This year I’m thinking about last year’s things, last year I should be thinking about the year before that, but now I can’t remember the year before that. Just like time travel, time will always turn somewhere.
Crack, crackle, the corn machine was cheering in the yard before I even got up. At this time, I looked at the two open windows. The poplar trees in the distance were still so vibrant. The few remaining leaves couldn't resist the temptation of the autumn wind, and it was a cheerful scene. I just don’t know which day or moment the last remaining leaf slipped off, and the wind blew up the treetops desolately. I guess I can't see it. After tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, it’s time to leave. I stood up and was about to get up, when my mother's voice came from the window, "Are you awake?" Then I'll hurry up and fry the vegetables. My mother panicked and ran into the kitchen again. My father was bent over in the yard, shoveling shovel after shovel of corn cobs and putting them into the corn machine. The corn cobs jumped out from the other exit with a roar. Time seemed to be frozen at this moment. I remembered that many years ago, many years ago, my father repeated every action, like this, bending down, exerting force, and getting up, in continuous connection. But I never asked, Dad, are you tired?
I stretched out my palms, and a few bright blood blisters still bulged stubbornly, and my waist felt as if it was broken, so painful that I couldn't feel it.
I remember yesterday I was so tired that I said feebly, Mom, Dad, let’s just stop farming. It’s too tiring. Mom said, Hey, what are you doing if you don’t farm? This autumn harvest can be sold for 5,000 yuan. The price of corn is very high now. The father lowered his head to gather the ears of corn and remained silent. Five thousand yuan? I kept thinking about the weight of this money in my mind, but in the end I could no longer say a word. What’s five thousand dollars? How much blood and sweat does this cost?
I racked my brains to think of a perfect solution. I was calculating how to get out of this predicament. I was looking forward to how my family could lie on the squeaking bamboo bed in the yard and listen to my parents like I did when I was very young. Nagging, then looking at the stars in the sky, listening to the frogs croaking in the pond in the distance, thinking about the whistle in the distance, and dreaming of sweet dreams that lead to happiness. Then when I wake up, everything has a tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow is such a beautiful word. Apart from fantasy and sustenance, there is still a long hope.
I remember that the night I came back, the whole family was so happy and a little flustered. My mother asked me in the vegetable field in the yard, Liu, what kind of vegetables do you want to eat? Yellow cabbage? lettuce? Or green vegetables? I looked at the lush green ground, looked at my mother’s expectant eyes, and listened to my father chopping meat in the kitchen. Grandma was also busy carrying water and bowls. My aunt looked at my face seriously over and over again and said that you just have fine lines at the corners of your eyes. Sitting on the square table in the main room at night, there was a table full of dishes, and the happy atmosphere was a bit unreal. I chewed the delicious food and listened to your words and his heart-warming words. I couldn't control it anymore. Tears rolled down like strings of beads. I hid my face and ran to the bedroom. I raised my face and sulked. , suppressing himself from crying.
Time is like cutting flesh, and the pain of cutting makes you unable to tell whether it is the body or the mind. You can't let go. In these long days, everything comes and goes in a hurry. You stand at every corner except to watch, except to say goodbye, and except to wait. The next thing is still waiting. You can't forget the joy of each reunion, and you can't forget the trembling in your chest when you say goodbye.
The day I leave is also the eighth day I come back. Every day I carefully watch the sun rise slowly, looking forward to the arrival of the day but fearing the fall of night. I look alone in the dark night and count down the time over and over again. Tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow will be here at this time. It was somewhere else. When I thought of this, I wrapped myself tightly in the quilt and curled up. It was like a long thorn suddenly appeared in my heart, which made me gasp. Sometimes I lie in bed at night and think about it, what can I finally stay? What can last forever? I reached out to my mother's arm lying on the left side, caressing her skin that was soft due to age, and listened to her even breathing, which was quiet and warm.
Now I think that such a short distance is a luxury. I stroked my mother's soft arms over and over again last night. At this time, I was sitting in the back seat of the electric car and pressed against my father's back. He smelled of sweat and dryness, just like the yellow leaves everywhere in autumn, and the wind It hits your nostrils as soon as you blow it gently. It always feels like it lacks the freshness of green and has a sweet smell after being blown by the wind and sun. My father drove me to the county seat in an electric car and drove away. Along the way, I told Dad over and over again, Dad, you must not go to the construction site again. Dad, you can't let your back pain happen again, Dad... There are always thousands of words to say, and you can't let go of them. I remember my father agreed over and over again, and sighed again, saying that the leaves have fallen again this year, they are gone, and they are gone again this year. Both sides of the wide asphalt road are covered with a thick layer of leaves. When the car whizzes past, they will fly and dance, spin in the air for a while, and then slide back to the ground. He drove very slowly, and I thought about how difficult this road was for him, just like how uncomfortable it was for me to watch the familiar scenery disappear little by little behind me, and my heart trembled.
The National Day holiday every year is a kind of torture from heaven to hell. Looking forward to the stars and the moon, we look forward to being together, but we also have a deeper understanding of what separation is. In the growing mind, those subtle factors grow and expand one by one, and they are packed tightly, leaving no extra gaps. When I learned that my father had another backache and was forced to go home, I knew that my father's health was really broken. He was such a strong person and it was impossible for him to complain of pain until he couldn't bear it. How could he work so hard for this family? Take some time off? He wouldn't let his whole family hang around him and worry about him constantly. So even though I was worried, I didn't make a call. I just rushed home with urgency.
I remember that the sun was very strong that afternoon, and October in the south still felt like summer. The front and back of the red T-shirt I was wearing were soaked through. I was holding my bag with my left hand and dragging my suitcase with my right hand. I took one bus and then another. It started in the afternoon and the sun set in the blink of an eye. At this time, I looked out the window of the plane. Everything was quiet. The night was getting darker and darker. You could see many stars at an altitude of 10,000 meters. I remembered the summer nights when I was a child. My sister and I were lying on a bamboo mat counting stars, fighting over territory, and bickering. She always complained to her mother who was lying on another bamboo mat, Mom, look, Liu is squeezing me again. They pushed me to the ground. At this time, my father scolded her, asking you to call me sister, why do you still call me by your first name? Next time I hear you call her Liu, I'll get beaten. My sister turned her back to me, but every morning when she opened her eyes, she was leaning against me, her head next to mine. Now that she has grown up, she is no longer as naughty and mischievous as she was when she was a child, looking forward to seeing me again and again.
On the day I left, my father sent me to the county town. My sister took the ticket and went to the station with us. She talked nonsense with me. To this day, I can’t remember her even whispering to me. something. He seemed to be talking and laughing happily, but not in a trance. Because when the car I was sitting in drove out of the station, I clearly saw her waving to me, and big tears rolled down from her eyes. I looked around several times, and I couldn't see anything from the front window to the back window. Later, my sister told me that my father covered his face and went to the toilet. When he came back, his eyes were red from crying. I twitched and forced the tears back. I don’t know when, but I didn’t want to cry anymore in front of them. I always comforted them that they didn’t have to worry about anything while I was there.
I don’t know if I have grown up, but now, no matter what my parents say, I no longer get angry and hang up the phone like I used to. I don’t know if I will no longer be as relaxed and comfortable as a child in the future. My mother said how much I miss you, you are still as lively and happy as before, even though you are always disobedient. My father said that I must eat well, sleep well and not get sick when I'm out, so don't let him worry about me. My sister said, sister, I will listen to you and work hard.
When I write this, more than a month has passed in a hurry. Autumn is the least able to withstand scrutiny. I was thinking that the poplar trees in front of the window at home were already bare. My mother said it rained endlessly and it was difficult to go out. My father also went to Beijing not long after I left. He insisted on still having a job. Life is still going step by step. From the moment I open my eyes every morning, I keep moving forward. All the processes can be omitted, but many years later, I will still think of, today, my father, my mother, and my sister, our family. The state of mind at that time, us at that time... is like a black and white old photo, sandwiched in a certain chapter of life. I am at the end of the world, but my heart is in my hometown. Article 4
At the highway intersection, on the way back home, the sound of bustling people kept surrounding my ears. The endless traffic flow, under the intersection of red and yellow high-beam lights, continues to extend into the distance, towards the home in my heart, even if it is a distant place that I don't know how long it will take to reach it.
I looked up through the cold car window and toward the sky. I wait, I look forward, I long for the moon goddess to show her gentle face without hesitation, instead of being ethereal in the clouds and mist. The car drove slowly forward and backward, and time passed by minute by second.
Suddenly, a clear and bright moon shadow came into my eyes. The full moon is like a jade plate or a silk satin, shining brightly in the dark blue velvet night. The quiet and gentle brilliance seems to have traveled through thousands of years of history, entwining endless autumn thoughts in the clear brilliance, and scattered stars in the world. I stretched out my hand gently, wanting to touch a moment of tranquility, and wanting to collect the beauty of autumn. The emotions flowed through my heart like a tide, and my thoughts rushed into my mind, dancing like waves with the night wind.
"There is a bright moonlight in front of my bed, I suspect it is frost on the ground. I look up at the bright moon and lower my head to think about my hometown." This song "Quiet Night Thoughts" by Li Bai was taught to me by my grandma very early. Later, as I read more, I learned that Li Bai was living in Yangzhou when he wrote this poem, and his hometown would never go back. On a night with few stars, the poet looked up at the bright moon in the sky, feeling homesick. And now, I am on the Mid-Autumn Festival night, stuck in a traffic jam on the road, with no moon to see, but still homesick.
I vaguely remember that during the Mid-Autumn Festival, my grandma would always take me to worship the moon together. I can hold the five-nut mooncakes, face the autumn wind full of sweet-scented osmanthus, and listen to the stories my grandma tells. The most common ones she tells are the familiar ones of Chang'e flying to the moon and Wu Gang conquering the osmanthus.
I can always slowly fall into a peaceful dreamland with the moon shadow dancing and the evening breeze blowing, looking forward to seeing sister Chang'e
Traffic jam, eagerness, long thoughts, a drop of clear tears across my cheek, I seem a little sentimental . On the way home, and even more so on the way to my hometown, my enthusiasm and longing seemed to be frosty in my heart.
Imagine that Li Bai has not yet touched the wine, but his lips and teeth are already cold. Just because "there is a pot of wine among the flowers, drinking alone without any blind date", he has no choice but to "raise a glass to the bright moon, and look at the shadow of three people". It seems romantic, but in fact it is lonely and cold. Reading Fan Zhongyan's "Every year tonight, the moon shines like a moon, and people are thousands of miles away", I know that although the wandering wanderers miss their hometown relatives who are thousands of miles away, they can only sigh to the moon and express their sorrow. Now I am reciting Su Shi's "May I live forever, thousands of miles away from the beauty of the moon". I believe that Su Zi's open-minded and relieved feelings can help the lonely wanderers in the world find some solace and the courage to wander in a foreign country.
Nostalgia lingers, traveling through thousands of years, and sneaks into the hearts of every returning home traveler through the night and moon. Home is a distant place, home is the happiness of reunion under a bright moon, and home is the spiritual harbor that is longed for in our hearts.
At this moment, there are long queues of cars and sleepless nights. Countless wanderers returning home, accompanied by the cold moonlight and the rustling evening breeze, rush to the long road, waiting for the dawn to break in the darkness, waiting for the happiness of home. and light.
I am far away, and my home is on the road. I used my mobile phone and the dim light in the car to write essays. Not only did I complete the writing task assigned by the teacher, but I also preserved my thoughts in the middle of the night. I really accomplished multiple things with one stone and enjoyed the fun of expression. I am at the end of the world, but my heart is in my hometown. Essay 5
Monday
During the May Day holiday, it is rare to be so relaxed. After dinner, smelling of alcohol, I rode the neon lights of a foreign country. In the flickering night, a person walks and stops. The crowds were bustling under the night, as if they couldn't find the direction home and were blindly going north and south.
Those returning home who sit in the car and look out through the thick glass can’t wait to look at their hometown through the car window over and over again. The nagging of parents, the watching of children, imagining the night with the sound of frogs in my hometown, the way home is longer than the longing...
二
I can’t remember clearly. In that year, I packed a few clothes in plastic bags with the story of people from my hometown getting rich abroad, and started my journey south. Although I may be confused and stumble, my strength after every lick is because there is a kind of warmth in my heart.
No matter how hard and tired you are, thinking about home will give you endless strength. The greatest happiness in life is not the bouquet of flowers after success and fame, but the warm thoughts that accompany you wherever you are!
三
Who doesn’t want to be with their elderly parents, and who wants to let their children worry about them at home and exclaim in their dreams? Who is willing to leave their hometown and stay away from their warm hometown? Who wants to wander and endure hardship in a foreign land?
When people travel, they always have a lot to carry. If you are responsible, you will naturally be in trouble. Since you have chosen a distant place, you have to take care of all the hardships. When you are tired, you just miss home. You can express your true feelings, but you must hold back the crystal tears in your eyes.
四
A person stood in the corner of the park, and the karaoke on the street played Xu Hebin's "Home is Far Away" over and over again. It makes people daydream, but also makes people sad. Looking up at the starry sky, home is far away and dreams are in a foreign country. The wanderer looks across thousands of mountains and rivers to see if he can reach that place where spring flowers are blooming.
There, there are no high-rise buildings, no smog and neon lights, only rows of peaches and plums, crowing of chickens and barking of dogs, and simple villages. The breeze and drizzle are always filled with the fragrance of wild flowers...
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五
I often use my wandering nostalgia to pursue the memory of home. In my memory, the overgrown courtyard guards the stilted wooden house that is swaying in the wind and rain day and night; The earth walls with vines and the stone steps covered with moss cannot hide the sentimentality of the years; the road stretching into the distance in front of Chaimen is longer than the stories trodden by generations of ancestors.
In the mottled sunset, the expectations of our fathers for the mountains outside were once engraved, the quietly flowing Lixi River, those eternal mountains that remain unchanged, and the mountains that rise on time every day. Just like this, wisps of smoke decorate my dreamy hometown day after day, year after year.
Six
Penetrate the fog of time, place your hometown deep in your soul, and let your wandering thoughts no longer float. When you feel homesick, let your longing embark on the journey home. As long as you have a home in your heart, your life will no longer be lonely. The concern of parents and the cry of children are both unforgettable and satisfying.
At this moment, I seemed to smell the smell of my hometown, warm and peaceful, fragrant but not overbearing. With the excitement of wine, I looked up hard and saw that in the hazy distance, a group of children were playing hide and seek under the stilted building. , chasing each other and playing. At this moment, I seem to see my childhood appearance, as if I have returned to that happy golden time!