I wrote my mother's essay 1.
There are many kinds of love, representing different meanings: parents' love for their children is selfl
I wrote my mother's essay 1.
There are many kinds of love, representing different meanings: parents' love for their children is selfless; The love between friends is pure; Our love for the disabled is sincere. ...
There is a kind of love that haunts us; There is a kind of love that is so selfless and great; There is a kind of love that moves us; There is a kind of love that we are ashamed of ... that is the love of our parents. What I will never forget is my mother's love.
One morning in junior high school, the sun was shining, which made people feel that summer had arrived, so I ran out of the house without an umbrella and only wore a summer sportswear. My mother stopped me and said to me, "Girl, it was very hot this morning, and it may get cold in the afternoon." Please put on more clothes and bring an umbrella! " "I didn't pick up my mother and went to school. Who knows, my mother was really right. It was really dark in the afternoon, and then there was a heavy rain, and the weather became cold. I was huddled up with cold and wanted to go home quickly, but I remembered that I forgot to bring my umbrella. What should I do? How to get home? I regret it very much.
Just when I was at a loss, a familiar figure quickly came to me, and that was my mother. It turned out that my mother knew that I had few clothes when I went back to school, and that it was getting cold and raining heavily, and I didn't bring an umbrella, so my mother came to bring me clothes and an umbrella. My mother said to me, "I can only ask for half an hour." I'll go back to work later, and you can go home and do your homework later! " "My mother's words are like a breeze. By the time I pulled back my thoughts, my mother had dragged her tired body and returned to the company with a small umbrella. If I want to grade you, 100 is on time.
There is a kind of love-the meticulous love of parents, many of which are or are often easily overlooked!
Let's repay our parents' care, love and support when we grow up!
I study my mother's composition.
Mother's Day is coming, and I can't help being immersed in memories of the past years. ...
As the saying goes, father loves mountains and mother loves water. Mother is like a vast sky, I am a bird, flying freely in the embrace of the blue sky; Mother is the vast sea, and I am a small fish, swimming around heartily under the care of the sea.
Mom, you always take care of me, help me and encourage me. Whenever I am sick, you always take good care of me at the bedside; Whenever I encounter difficulties, you will face them with me, observe them, use your brains and find ways to finally break through the bottleneck; Whenever my exam results are not ideal, you calmly and seriously say to me, "Don't lose heart, make persistent efforts, and you will certainly get good grades as long as you work hard."
Time is like a bird, which flies away quietly without our knowing it. In a blink of an eye, I have grown into a fifth-grade boy, but my white hair has slowly climbed over your head. At that time, I didn't know what I should do. I could only look at you helplessly, watching your white hair mixed on my head. ...
I sighed sadly, but what can this stop? As the days went by, I became invisible and suddenly thought too much. Starting today, I will help you do more housework and do what I can. I will also study hard and repay you in the future.
Tomorrow is Mother's Day. I wish my mother good health, happiness forever and happy holidays!
I take part in the third composition of my mother.
Mother's Day is coming, tomorrow. What gift should I give? I have a headache because of this.
Ah! Today, the sun is shining, birds are singing outside the window, and the home smells of gardenia. Ah! Today, I seem to find the breath of summer. Suddenly, a problem followed.
After breakfast, grandma said, "Tomorrow is Mother's Day. What gift are you going to give your mother? " "I give hugs and wash my feet so that I can express my love for my mother without spending money." Actually, my mother wants a Samsung mobile phone. Ask me for it, but I don't have enough money to buy this gift now. My mother gave it to me when she was 36. It can't be delivered in advance, so this can't be delivered. At this time, my mother-in-law inserted: "Yuan Lian, you were like this last year. Don't you feel repetitive when you come back this year? " It's a bit repetitive in retrospect. "Yes, I want to change it this year." I answered my grandmother. Here, I took out 50 yuan from my "small bank", which I earned part-time. But for this Mother's Day, I want to express my love for my mother in another way.
In the morning, I went to Sanfu Boutique at the intersection of South District. The things in it are cheap and beautiful. This forced me to go there first. Grandma and I went over and went up to see, "Ah! There are also hair accessories, bracelets, mouse pads and so on. So I can't see anything. I walked quietly to the hair accessories, and saw some beautiful and lovely clips, and some blue ones, which were really too many. I thought again: My mother never wears a hairpin at this time. This hairpin doesn't work. Choose another one. So I went to find the mouse pad again. Wow! Your mouse pad is better than mine. There are rabbit mouse pads, lamb mouse pads, puppy mouse pads ... I walked away after reading it, because it was so cute that it was impossible for my mother to use this mouse pad at her age. I've been here for a long time, and I have nothing I want, so I have to leave Sanfu.
……
As time goes by, I don't want to waste time, so I have to go home.
What do you think I can give?
I take part in the fourth composition of my mother.
Gratitude, although a verb, is a very smiling action, but in fact, few people really feel it. As a 2 1 century, we should first thank our mothers.
Perhaps, you haven't thought about who gave you the most from your birth to that young girl and that brave boy. Needless to say, mom, of course! Our life today is very happy. We have a warm home, a stable trip, a happy life, no famine, decent clothes and reading extracurricular books in our spare time. Who caused everything here? It's all from my mother. Shouldn't we be grateful? Although some students complain that the tasks left by parents are too heavy for their children to breathe, what I want to say is: you don't have to be physically and mentally exhausted for work; Don't worry about having no house to live in. Your biggest task is to study. Isn't that enough?
I remember one stormy night, the raindrops as big as peas crackled on the window. That night, I suddenly began to tremble, shaking all over, and woke up my sleeping mother. My mother took out her thermometer and looked at it. The temperature is over 39 degrees. At this time, I panicked and went to the kitchen to get antipyretic and water. After I took it, I fell asleep in bed. When I woke up, I opened my eyes and found my mother still guarding me. I have an indescribable feeling in my heart. ...
Conclusion: I really thank God that I was born at such a mother's knee. Without her greatest and most selfless love, I devoted all my true love and feelings. How can I write this grateful narrative today?
Here, I wish all mothers in the world health! Happy!
I take part in the fifth composition of my mother.
I haven't seen my mother for a long time.
The last time I saw my mother, I ate my cousin's baby moon wine. I hurried to my cousin's house for dinner and was called by my cousin to eat pig-killing rice. It was past ten when I got home. Mother is squatting in front of the stove and burning a pile of firewood ash to keep warm. When I came in, I was taken aback and said, I'm back! I said yes and fell asleep at random. I slept until eleven o'clock the next day and woke up. Suddenly, I remembered that the primary school teacher married his daughter today. I quickly got up and said to my mother who was preparing to cook, mom, I have to go. When you leave the gate. Mom stayed for a while and said, it's Spring Festival, so don't go where you shouldn't. I well, came to the path outside the dam. I saw my mother's aging and stupid figure, and suddenly my heart was sour, so I said, Mom, I'm back for the New Year, and it's still early for the New Year.
However, I was with my mother when I was a child. At that time, Xiang Bo, the only person in the village who ate public meals, was about to retire. He always wants to build his house into the luxurious style of his former nobles. So my father would suck stones in the ravine of the village every day, pick stones and sell them. Help others do farm work when they are busy. Go out before dawn every day and come back at ten o'clock in the evening. Sometimes we can't see dad for days, and we don't know where he is. So, home is always dead. After living in this home for more than ten years, I have experienced a lot of boredom and loneliness in life, but I seldom feel the fear brought by loneliness. In this family, whenever I go home, I always feel the breath of my mother. Or, she is lying in bed talking nonsense, or, she is curled up in a corner, laughing or talking to herself from time to time, or there will be her voice in a field or grass behind the house. Although the daily meal will never be punctual, it will never be sweet and delicious, but when your stomach is growling, you can always eat something that can satisfy your hunger or soup or porridge.
In summer, nights in the mountains are sometimes full of fear. At this time, there will be strong winds, heavy rains, lightning and thunder, and flash floods. At this time, there will always be another terrible thing: power failure. In this boundless darkness, I feel unprecedented fear. At this time, in a corner of this home, my mother's subtle or violent or mysterious or horrible breath is my only sustenance and comfort when I am the most horrible in this world.
When I was a child, I always had a fear of my mother. I remember one day, I was playing in the open space in front of my house. At this moment, I suddenly saw my mother pulling out some strange grass with thorns in the messy grass. Then, to my horror, my mother cooked a lot of water in the big iron pot at home. Then, I saw my mother coming to me, grabbed my arm and pulled it home. I struggled desperately, struggled desperately, and in desperation, I hit my mother. Mother seemed surprised, but she didn't let go of her particularly strong hand. Finally, she dragged me into the house and took a bath under the dark and steaming water pressure. Water won't burn people. My pounding heart calmed down. As far as I can remember, I heard the story of how several crazy mothers boiled their sons to death in boiling water. Later when I grew up, I heard a similar story. One of my little cousins was burned to death by her crazy mother with red-hot tongs. A few years later, I had my own son. I took my son back to his hometown when he was a few months old. But after only two days, I was covered with acne. At this time, my mother was busy pulling back those strange barbed grass, burning those two cauldrons of black water, and bathing my son when it was cold. My son's acne miraculously disappeared. Seeing my son playing happily in the basin, I want to cry.
When I was seven, I had a younger brother. Mother is very happy to hold her brother every day. Every day, she happily carries her brother on her back to catch the show, and then comes back happily with her brother on her back. At first, my father was not at ease, and he always watched quietly in the back. But after a long time, I was relieved to see that everything was okay every time. But gradually, there are rumors that the mother carried her brother head down and bathed him with cold water. To this end, my father also secretly followed it several times, and it was not as good as the rumors, so I was relieved. But finally one day, my mother and brother went out early in the morning and didn't come back in the afternoon, didn't come back after dark, didn't come back the next day, and didn't come back a week later. My dad thought my mom just took my brother to grandma's house, so he didn't care. It was not until one day that my grandmother came to see me that I realized that things had changed for the better.
I will always remember that day, the second day of winter, sleet.
In the following days, my father dressed as a beggar and looked around.
A year later, somewhere by the Yangtze River, my mother was found, but my brother was gone.
Sometimes, a woman in the village will ask where her little son is. She just said that her little son went to enjoy himself and sat at the counter. In those years, in the eyes of our country people, the people sitting at the counter were all happy people and rich people. Gradually, her little son sitting at the counter became a joke, which spread in our small village in the mountains.
We'll talk about it later.
Later, I was admitted to a high school in an ancient town. When school started, my mother took the initiative to send me to school. Although I don't want to, there is nothing I can do but let her. When we walked across a big bay with food, rice and bedding on our backs, a big green river appeared in front of us. She suddenly got excited and murmured that this place is so familiar. I didn't care, I didn't speak, I just walked on with dull steps. When we reached another corner, she suddenly pointed to a yard at the foot of the mountain and said, that's where the soldiers are. I looked at the small courtyard where the smoke was curling up, and it seemed very warm there. In a trance, I seem to hear a little boy laughing there.
Today, I believe my younger brother, my mother's other son, must be somewhere in the world. My mother certainly didn't abandon him, just because she was ill, but she didn't boil or scald his ugly son to death. However, he was abducted by some people, or out of kindness. Perhaps, his childhood will come soon, perhaps, he will know that he actually has a mother. Maybe, he knows nothing. But, I know me, my mother, my father, we all know.
How time flies. Suddenly, I am the father of a 1 1 year-old child myself. In these ten years, I took care of my son like a weed, and my son grew up happily or painfully under our extensive care. In these ten years, I seldom go back to the small village in the mountain where I was born and raised, and I seldom go back to my mother. Naturally, I am not the kind of successful person who is too busy to go home. I just hate going home. In those days when there was nothing to do and I was bored, I just stayed in a corner of the world in a daze. However, occasionally, I will think of the little things in my life after hours, and I will think of my mother.
I still remember when my mother was not sick. At that time, we would have a pig, big and small, new suit, good and bad, every New Year. At that time, every Spring Festival, I would follow my mother to my grandmother's house. I don't remember how we celebrated this festival at that time, but in my impression, it was always a moment full of mystery, joy and warmth. I still remember that every year when the corn is ripe, my mother always picks some tender corn, wraps it with tung leaves and steamed it into sweet corn cakes. That tender sweetness. When we grow up and return to our hometown, we are used to doing it in the way we remember. Although it is sweet, it is far from the taste we remember. Perhaps, many things in life, once in the past, can never be found back.
It's Spring Festival again. Every household buys new year's goods in a crowded supermarket, but I just sit in front of the computer in a daze. I think I will go back to my hometown tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow. Looking at the reinforced concrete outside the window, another scene came to mind: gloomy days, dark mountains, and the cold north wind blowing my hair and scraping my face. I saw my mother in the smoke. So old, so old.
I took part in the sixth composition of my mother.
She lives in a small town, her father works outside all the year round, and she has a mother at home. Every night after the self-study bell rings at ten o'clock, she has to walk a long way home. In fact, it is only because there is no street light for a short distance that she walks very carefully, so she always feels that the distance every night is longer than other times. But I don't know when the red cross light in a roadside clinic is on every night, so she thinks the road is not too long.
After a few years, she was admitted to the university, left the town, took part in the work, and returned to the town every Spring Festival. One year, my mother was ill and hospitalized years ago. She asked for leave and returned to town early. While taking care of my mother, I tidy up and prepare for the new year's goods. Once when she was cleaning the room, she found a red cross diagnostic lamp and remembered that it belonged to that clinic in those days, because it was still as big as before. But why is it in your own home? She's confused. She followed her memory to find the clinic, but where is the shadow of the clinic? Only after asking did I know that the family moved out of town two years ago.
Maybe it was too big to move, but my mother is so traditional, how can she accept it? Isn't this unlucky? The next afternoon, she took her mother out of the hospital. Mother is resting in the house, and she is washing clothes outside. My neighbor's aunt was there, and they talked about the lights in that clinic. "You don't know, that's what your mother did and put it in that clinic. It is said that it will light you up every night. Too stubborn, I have to come back to study alone next night. " There seems to be something flashing in her mind. "Mom, when I came back just now, someone was too light to hear. Suddenly came up to me and scared me to death! " It seems that from then on, the light came on. Inside, mother fell asleep peacefully. Outside, she burst into tears.
Comment; Ordinary details reflect great maternal love. You and I both have a lamp lit by our mother to light our way home. ......