The sunlight dappled between the gaps in the trees, breaking into pieces of notes that struck the keys of my memory. I remember that year, you embraced the eternal mountain jumped into the clear lake of my memory.
Push the window and look, heaven and earth is filled with a layer of wet, quiet green mist, not far away from the mountain was dyed shade like ink. I've been following your lead, slowly trudging up the hill to the top of the mountain. You hold the verdant bamboo step by step trembling upward climb, the jasper carving like bamboo body still remains your shallow handprints, as the brush lightly described on the general.
Years in your fluffy hair outlined a few silver, eye wrinkles like a tangled copper wire, shaking my eyes. You step by step wobbly to the deep mountains to go, from time to time squat down to pick up the ground dry firewood held in the armpit, every action is like a picture of a fixed frame. You look down, a pair of cloudy but spiritual eyes searching for the target, every time you see a pile of withered branches, you will be excited to go forward to sort them into a base, eyes flashing a strange light, dyed into a warmth, drunk in my heart. Until about the time, you will be from the waist of the nylon rope has long been ready, slowly stooped down to the rope spread on the overgrown ground, slowly leveled, and then a pile of a pile of dry wood accumulated on the rope. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty and get out of the way, and then you'll be able to get out of the way and get out of the way.
I went up, looked at your hair dotted with small droplets of water, reached out and brushed, cool through the fingers seeped into my heart, your hair like a thick rope like touch my heart trembled. "Go back, this firewood later let uncle drag back. " I said softly. You knelt with one foot pressed down on the firewood pile and pulled the rope hard with both hands, and the tall pile immediately shrunk quite a bit. You deftly tied the knot on both ends of the rope, both hands holding a large bundle of firewood, as if embracing the beloved things like staggering down the mountain.
I rubbed my forehead and helplessly walked up to help you, and said: "Grandma, it's not good to put firewood in the house, you just won't take a break, what if you get tired? It's good to enjoy your life at home." You hooked a smile on your face and said, "Grandma, I'm sorry. "You hooked up a smile, cracked lips popped out a sentence: "I'm old, but I do not want to forget my roots, labor can not be lost. "I froze, silent, looked at you, and turned his head to look at the mountain, as if waking up from a dream. Yes, labor can not be lost.
The figure of your labor in the lens of time more and more clear, that dry firewood, that great mountain engraved in the memory force, never annihilated. Your love of labor made me fall in love with the mountain.
The wind whisked the leaves, pieces of flap, gently this worthy of treasuring the `memories of a leaf and a leaf to lift up, woven into a piece of the most truly beautiful. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
2 memories worth treasuringI changed from a small girl who did not know anything to a big sister now, in my growing experience, there is a memorable thing that inspires me forever.
It was a winter night when my mom suddenly had a high fever, and my dad was away on a business trip. I was very busy at home. After finishing the housework, I helped my mom, and it was hard to come to the hospital. The doctor instructed, "Your mom has a high fever, remember, not only to give her medicine, but also to cook some radish soup for her to drink." I nodded and helped my mom back home. The next day, I carried a basket to buy radishes. When I arrived at the market, I looked around for a radish seller. After searching for half a day, I couldn't find any, probably because I was late. At that moment, someone in the crowd shouted, "Sell radish, big and fresh." I ran over and saw a little girl of eight or nine years old selling radishes. She had a pair of big, shining eyes, a convex nose, and a small cherry mouth. Her body was thin and small, and her face had a hint of pallor. I asked her, "How much per pound?"
"60 cents." The little girl replied. "How much if I buy them all?" I said and put the radish in the basket. The little girl was busy counting. Her mouth muttered "60 cents a pound, a **** has 5 pounds, 6 + 6 = 12, 12 + 6 ...... I couldn't help but remind, "It's 3 yuan." She was busy saying, "Yes, it's 3 dollars." Said red face. I asked again, "How old are you? Where do you study? "I'm eight years old, studied for two years, then came out to sell vegetables."
I "Oh" a sound, was about to give money, "Hey, where is the wallet? Didn't bring it, or did you drop it?" I whispered. Embarrassed, I poured back the radish and said, "I'm sorry, I forgot to bring money." The little girl smiled and didn't say anything. At that moment, a middle-aged uncle came over and said, "What a fresh radish." "Yes, just plucked it this morning." The little girl said. "I'll buy them all." The uncle said, pulling out a "portrait".
"My mom is very sick and needs radish soup." I whispered. Ugh, who told me I didn't have any money with me? I thought to myself. What I said was heard by the little girl, she retracted her hand that was just about to take the money, and said, "Uncle, I'm sorry, I'm going to sell it to that sister." Saying that, she pointed at me. That uncle changed his face and said unhappily, "I bought it first, why should I let her."
"Her mom is sick and wants radish soup, so you should let her have it." Uncle heard before realized, praised: "This girl is really good people." I took the radish, put it aside, and said, "Thank you. I'll go home right now to get the money." I really have indescribable gratitude in my heart.
3 There is always a memory, worth treasuringThe years are merciless, took away my mother's youth, took away my childhood. The memory of the mind like a sea, there is always that a wave, tumbling, tumbling ......
-- inscription
Mom, I love you
Since I remember, my mother is the big hero in my heart. At that time, I always snuggled in my mom's arms and said sweetly to her, "Mom, I love you". When my mom heard this, she always smiled and said to me, "Good daughter, I love you too." Young me at that time do not know the meaning of this sentence, but I know I say this sentence mom is very happy, gradually, this has become a habit of mine, mom, I love you.
Mom, I'm sick of you
With the passage of time, I began to hate my mother's nagging. Every day, it was all about trivial things. Finally, one time, I exploded. When my mom talked about me that time, I rudely shouted, "Stop it, mom, why are you so annoying?" Mom was silent and never said anything about me again, and during that time, I was so clean and quiet that I saw it as a sign of triumph, but I don't remember, my exasperated words, Mom, I'm annoying you.
Mom, I hate you
Still clearly remember that exam, due to my carelessness, due to my playfulness, the results fell apart. Mom saw, did not say anything, just always stiff. "Snap!" A crunching sound broke the silence. I thought my mom would be angry, but I didn't think she would hit me. As the door slammed, I rushed into the house and almost hysterically shouted, "Mom, you don't deserve to be my mom, I hate you!" After a while, I saw my mom through the window with a tearful face, I was very proud of my heart, thanks to the words I said, mom, I hate you.
Mom, I love you
Time washed away the memory, remembered the innocent words as a child, standing in front of the mirror of the mind, I was ashamed. Yes, I have grown up, but my mother is old. If I can, I'd rather not grow up for the rest of my life, because I can be with my mom for the rest of my life, and I can innocently keep saying, "Mom, I love you".
Everyone tells me, tells me that I am a child who understands. They don't know that mom's love is an endless ocean, and I, with only a cup of water, can return this ocean.
4 There is always a memory worth treasuringMemories are always to that naughty colorful butterflies, dancing in the air a fluttering dream, and capricious faded in the axis of time, and then inadvertently broke into your world. --Title
Light is like an arrow, years like a shuttle. The June that had made me shed tears has quietly left, until now is still can not believe that we struggle together with the days of sweat and tears so in June the end of the season of separation, that is how the years ah, that is how the youth ah!
Those days are not yet bright in the quilt playing a small torch back to the book, those who hold the English textbook strides to that just woke up the sun's small flower beds to read aloud with impunity, those who are in order to make up for the lack of legs of the subject of the class will pester the teacher to solve the problem, those who are the teacher every night to rush us to rush back to the dormitory holding the book ....... Now this calmly laugh at the past self. However, those moods are engraved in the life of a thick mark, just tears and sweat flying time, is enough to be remembered for a lifetime. Those days and nights we are doing how beautiful dreams?
I believe that most of us in junior high school have experienced, because of fear, so much so that time and again failed and had to stand up; because of fear, so much so that once the class is pestering the teacher to solve the problem; because of fear, so much so that I do not dare to go back to the dormitory than others a little bit earlier; because of fear, so much so that one person hid in the room secretly wiping tears; because of fear, so much so that the results came out also do not dare to ask; all are only The only purpose is the midterm examination! When the battle is over, the heart is a burst of melancholy and a burst of joy.
Just a few months ago I was still in fear for the midterm, today I am sitting in the classroom of the high school to see the clouds, looking at the teacher on the podium in the hands of the chalk on the blackboard brush strokes, yes, I stepped into the threshold of the high school, which is the first station of my life. I can't say I'm a proud victor. Perhaps it is a great regret of my life that I did not enter the high school that is sacred to my heart. But every day from today is in my hands, I still have the opportunity to do my best to fight for the next goal. This is not the end of high school, is another starting point, a greater test in the back waiting for me, the beautiful dream of college today into my heart, I see the university beckons me.
Memories of three years, so that over the value, looking back will not have too much worry, red face swing empty, youth is easy to pass. Do not wait for leisure, white youth head, empty sadness, do not waste this wonderful youth, raise the flag, marching towards the front. Waiting for the day of victory to enjoy the memories fly, let the tears splash.
I like to look ahead, because the unknown journey is full of fascinating temptations; I prefer to remember, because the road is so beautiful. In the ordinary life, I am looking for beautiful memories, and then silently pick up ......
5 there is always a kind of memories worth treasuringThis journey called me to forget is not any touching the heart of the scenery, but with people from all directions, without any relation to the people without worrying about jumping together with the call me to the heart, which is everyone should be The first thing I want to do is to get the best out of the world, and I want to do it right.
During the summer vacation, I was accompanied by relatives on the bus to Shangri-La. After a long run, the eye of the spread of the peaks, countless times traveling around the mountain, finally arrived at the world has been looking for a long time the paradise. Here away from the hustle and bustle of the city away from the bustle, leaving the echo of silence and sparse people passing by. In addition, there are gorgeous scenery - sprawling wide dam, sky meadows, yellow flowers, flocks of cattle and sheep. Often you can see the scenery on this picture, which is probably the patent of Shangri-La. In the not-so-vast but spacious meadows, barley stands are scattered randomly. Most Chinese people do not like the crows - in the Tibetan countryside is known as the sacred black bird, flocks of "drying" in the barley racks basking in the sun.
In Shangri-La, there's a lot of quiet and calm that you've never felt before, and it makes you want to live a life free from the world. But more than in the old city of the Sifang Street, the dance is not good but jumped to the joy of the dance is more memorable like lips and teeth!
Shangri-La has an ancient city, it is a little more prosperous than imagined, but with Lijiang and Dali still can not be compared, the key is the deep Tibetan atmosphere is unique. Because of the cold weather, we all wrapped ourselves in coats. In the evening, we walked through the old city to the Sifang Street. At this time, the locals have been dancing in the Sifang Street, there are old mothers of Yi and Tibetan ethnicity, there are also young people, gathered in a large circle. Every day so, is a local people's entertainment and fitness activities, without the slightest performance nature, all of which, after we experienced Lijiang's strong commercialized atmosphere, feel very valuable. The dancers are of course not only locals, but also tourists from all directions! Some of them are instantly join the ranks, quickly keep up with the pace of the mothers, some follow the queue of left and right swing twisting posture, some serious eyes can not be separated from the old mother, and some cheeky also regardless of their own right or wrong on the hands and feet. And I am the latter! Usually I, even my hometown square dance do not want to join, but at that moment, I was y infected, joined the dance without any rehearsal, by the natural cooperation of people from all over the dance - even if we each come from a different place, even if none of us know anyone, but let's reunite together * * * to enjoy this! the beauty of this time and place! Our hearts are intertwined, and we want to dance well together! We have the same goal, the same joy! We follow the cheerful rhythm step by step, following the queue, one movement at a time! In the end, every cell of my body boiled until it was so hot that I had to take off my coat! Even my relatives couldn't help but join in!
What makes me happy about this dance is not how good and wonderful it is, but the fact that it is shaped by each of us tourists, each of us who don't know each other, with the same goal*** and the same joy, and that it represents the friendship that connects our hearts, and it is a weighty memory that is better than the most beautiful and gorgeous scenery in the area!