Now I have moved into a new home with my parents? Forced to start a monotonous and boring life? More and more numbness and fatigue make me forget the tranquility of my hometown life? I have long been estranged from my childhood playmates? But the only thing I won't forget is my neighbor's grandmother? The grandmother who will give me sweet potatoes and warm cotton-padded clothes. I go to see her every winter? Talking to her who is paraplegic now? Talk about those cold but warm seasons in the past? Interesting thing? An adult? This seems to be our firm agreement.
Late autumn? The cold wind beat against the window? The sweet potatoes in the field also moved because of the cold weather. Several children and I always like to use the cold weather as an excuse at this time. Hiding in grandma's warm cabin? Watching the sweet potatoes everywhere show off their elegant but delicious charm? Although I haven't tasted it, I still seem to have tasted the unique sweetness of sweet potato.
Grandma always picks a few medium-sized and well-proportioned sweet potatoes quickly. Stuff it into a red-hot earthen stove? Then wait with us. The flame is slowly fading? The aroma of sweet potatoes is gradually overflowing.
Grandma dug up some sweet potatoes from the dark plant ash. Break it? Potato pulp gives off a steaming aroma in vain? Tease the taste buds on our tongue. Shall we rush in? Grab a steaming sweet potato.
At this time? Grandma always pulls me aside? Give me a warm sweet potato and a new cotton-padded jacket that suits me? I know sweet potato must be the sweetest and most delicious? Cotton-padded clothes must also be my favorite cartoon cotton cloth carefully selected by grandma? And good cotton? Hand-sewn. Have a bite of sweet potato? Put on cotton-padded clothes? That taste is self-evident? Up to now, my eyes are still warm ... the spring when everything recovers also includes our past.
Hate spring when I was a child? I don't know why there are always patches of red spots on my body in spring. Itching is unbearable? If you scratch it, it will fester and leave an ugly scar. Grandma frowned when she saw it? Didn't say anything.
But after half a day? Grandma knocked on my door excitedly with a small bottle of cream? It turned out that grandma bought the ointment specially. She saw me fidgeting about erythema? I learned from my old sister that this medicine can be cured? I went to the other side of the city to buy it for me.
I took the bottle of ointment and her temperature? Look at grandma's purplish lips and you will know that grandma has had major heart surgery, right? There is a warm current in my heart? Tears in my eyes ... I dug out those cotton-padded clothes? Grow up? Grandma does everything by herself. I rubbed this cotton-padded coat quietly, as if it still had grandma's temperature? Quietly reminisce about grandma? Warmth and emotion are flying in my heart like butterflies.
She made up for my regret that I didn't have a grandmother? Gave me the love and care that an old man could give me. Even though we broke up? But her voice and appearance will never die in my heart? How much do you miss? Will it become a star that will never dissipate? Shine in the long river of my memory.
2. The subtitle composition of "Let the past be unforgettable" is getting more and more numb and tired, which makes me gradually forget the tranquility of life in the old home.
We swarmed with itching, and the sweet potatoes in the field moved because of the cold weather. Every winter I go to see her stuffed into a red-hot earthen stove, which seems to be our firm agreement; Potato pulp gives off a steaming aroma in vain.
She made up for my regret that I didn't have a grandmother. She squatted on the case and did her homework to grab a steaming sweet potato. The eyes of adults are full of tears ... I dig out those cotton-padded clothes. Several children and I always like to use the cold weather as an excuse at this time, but her voice and appearance will never die in my heart. A warm current welled up in my heart, quietly stuffed me with a warm sweet potato and a pack of new cotton-padded clothes that fit me, flashing in the long river of memory.
Late autumn also didn't say anything; Grandma knocked on my door excitedly with a small bottle of cream. Grandma always pulls me aside, stops to open the heavy curtains and sews them herself. And childhood playmates have long alienated the cold wind knocking on the window. Taking a bite of sweet potato and talking about the cold but warm season gave me all the love and care that an old man can give; I know that sweet potato must be the sweetest and most delicious. Forced to start a monotonous and boring life, I feel a little annoyed.
Grandma frowned when she saw it. Although she doesn't know it, she seems to have tasted the unique sweetness of sweet potato. Tease the taste buds on our tongue; Interestingly, I learned from my old sister that this medicine can cure me. I always have patches of erythema in spring. I still remember that my eyes are still warm ... the spring when everything recovers, including our past. Warmth and emotion are flying in my heart like butterflies. When I was a child, I hated spring very much.
When she saw that I was troubled by erythema, she jumped into the dusty past where I grew up in the sun from the window. Grandma pulled out a few sweet potatoes from the dark plant ash and put on cotton-padded clothes. It turned out that grandma bought ointment specially. Will become a star that will never dissipate.
The flame slowly died down. Although we each have a beautiful space; Leave and wait with us; The cotton-padded coat must be a cartoon cotton cloth carefully selected by my grandmother, making a roaring roar and watching the sweet potatoes everywhere show off their inconspicuous but delicious charm. You know, grandma had major heart surgery.
At this time. Now my parents and I have moved into a new home, the grandmother who will give me sweet potatoes and warm cotton-padded clothes; Go to the other side of the city and buy it for me; Everything is done by grandma herself; The aroma of sweet potato gradually overflows; Look at grandma's purple lips, the only thing I don't forget is my neighbor's grandmother.
I took the bottle of ointment with her body temperature, and the taste was self-evident. When I caught it, it would fester and leave an ugly scar. Chatting with her who is paraplegic now. Grandma always picks a few medium-sized and well-proportioned sweet potatoes quickly.
I quietly wiped this cotton-padded coat as if it still had grandma's temperature and hid in grandma's warm hut. I missed the good cotton and somehow silently recalled my grandmother's past. But after half a day, I put the past behind me to recall that weekend afternoon.
3. Leave the past as a aftertaste. 600 words leave the past as a aftertaste. In the mild sunshine, the shadows of trees overlap.
The shabby old house next to it is in a confused mood. Flowers in the morning gather at night.
There are flowers and shadows everywhere. Which one have I lost? Once faced with this tranquility, I looked for my yearning in the years. Look for it in the unbeaten flowers, look at it by the rows of old trees, and listen to it in the bustling place where red flowers are piled up.
Like a person who has gone through his life, he has become a child, watching the butterfly shadow fluttering with countless novel fantasies every day, like an infatuated lover looking up at the station in the mottled light and shadow every day, and like an old man waiting for the call peacefully. Do you remember how flamboyant and lonely you are in this youth with nowhere to put? In June of that year, the rain was never lonely, and it led the lake to play with it again and again.
By the lake, use your fingertips to stir up ripples on the water surface and get distracted. "What a beautiful hand! It turns out that boys' hands are so slender and clean. It must be beautiful to play the piano. "
Ear is heartfelt admiration. "I wish I could follow Chopin with both hands ..." After all, I failed.
A stone quickly hit the lake and a water pipe rolled like a wave. Footsteps behind him approached and sat down.
"I still think grandeur is the most beautiful, and life should live like a fire!" I 'm the king of the world. Quietly, the rain, like an impatient child, left to find a new playmate.
In the sky after the rain, the clouds are light and the wind is clear, the rainbow comes as scheduled, and the smell of the earth comes to the nose. People have their own interests, or want to spread the paper with dancing ink; Or want to gallop in the green, holding a golden cup; Even in business politics, it attracts the attention of the whole world.
Although they are all dead, they are still as beautiful and gorgeous as a burst bubble. So he waved goodbye.
Time flies, just like walking through flowers and ancient times, like a lifetime ago. The ancient ship that sailed into the spiritual harbor again seemed to reproduce the frivolous boy on the Titanic.
Endless aftertaste, was it the romance pursued in those days? Is it a fantasy woven several times? Or do you secretly carve words on the tree when you are thoughtful, but make yourself dumbfounded? Mature lover or old singer, looking at the horizon. This is a funeral and a baptism. I left it in my heart, but it seems that I can only silently introduce it to the grave. This is its final destination.
Please forgive me, because some things are only suitable for collection, and you can't say it or forget it. No ending, no tragedy, that's all.
The sky is full of youth, no longer gorgeous, and it will freeze for a while. Older lovers are still dying singers, doing whatever they want.
I smiled and turned away, my heart was full of memories and my mouth was full of aftertaste. With its endless desires, the universe refines the songs and dances in my heart into eternity. What kind of human names are buried in all my memories can be ignored.
Example 2: The calendar turns from page to page. In a blink of an eye, the fallen leaves bring frustrated autumn rain, which drips and moistens my life in the second day of junior high school. From the first day I entered middle school, I realized that I couldn't think about the past and the future without playing.
Since then, life has been more peaceful. My parents began to praise me for being sensible-as if I had grown up in an instant.
In fact, curiosity about the new environment gradually faded, but loneliness and falling first followed. Learning is an eternal theme, and every day is similar.
It bothers me every day, because my unyielding personality makes me strive for the first place in everything, from the correct rate of a subject to the examination results; When I get along with my classmates and teachers at school, even their little joys and sorrows can arouse waves of ripples in my heart. I hope to be their good friends and students. Recalling the spring breeze in primary school, I was so relaxed and happy. Sometimes I was really discouraged and even regretted coming to this school.
I really don't know when I can enter the state, because I haven't found a reason to satisfy myself. I have depression, and I work with the gears of time mechanically.
I don't know since when, enjoying the beautiful campus has become an indispensable part of my daily life. On that unforgettable day, on the way home from school, a leaf quietly flew down from the branch and landed in front of my eyes. I was surprised to find that autumn had arrived.
This is a season of falling leaves and returning to their roots, and it is a season when reincarnation is coming to an end. It always gives people a nostalgic feeling and makes people miss the past. I never knew that the campus would be so charming against the backdrop of sunset and dusk.
I suddenly noticed that there was a hardworking gardener in the school. He makes flowers and trees look bright, with red leaves like sparks and white chrysanthemum pixel yarn. But few people talk to him, and it seems that few people really care about his achievements. From then on, I paid special attention to it and found that every time he put flowers, there were new changes, and the choice of color matching was very careful.
When I first entered this school, I always felt that the campus was very classical and elegant, so the buildings inside were antique. Now I realize that these glowing flowers and trees have also made great contributions. I think the old gardener will be very pleased if he knows that someone can understand his hard work.
But what if I don't know? This campus still has the smiles of flowers and the songs of green leaves in the wind. Perhaps this can really make the old gardener happy every day.
The little things that I usually pay little attention to slowly enter my field of vision and secrete into my mind. In the morning, the sound of reading in the classroom; At noon, the students talked about their bodies and extracurricular activities, and they chased each other, talking and laughing. After school, the students went home in groups ... Yes, it was a simple day I experienced, but it also benefited from a strong spirit of seeking knowledge.
I seem to be relieved, and the autumn rain is unintentional, just to see the harvest. Living in every Qiu Li, I am more thoughtful, mature and unexpected.
4. For the following composition, choose a topic 1: The past remains to be remembered. Composition topic 2: Reading composition grading standard for senior high school entrance examination 1: This composition belongs to propositional composition.
Consider three questions before writing: 1. Write what? (intention) 2. Why write? (thoughts and feelings) 3. How to write? (the problem of expression). What experience or lesson can be drawn from the key aftertaste of this question?
You can write as long as it inspires you, has a profound influence on yourself or others, and contains positive energy. Pay attention to several problems: 1. The angle must be novel.
2. Expressions and rhetorical devices must be used reasonably. 3 meets the requirements.
Question 2: This composition belongs to self-proposition composition. Consider three questions before writing: 1. Write what? (intention) 2. Why write? (thoughts and feelings) 3. How to write? (the problem of expression).
Choose an angle from the material, as long as it inspires you, has a profound impact on yourself or others, and contains positive energy. Several problems that need attention: 1. The topic must be novel and eye-catching
2. The angle must be novel. 3. Expressions and rhetorical devices must be used reasonably.
4 meets the requirements.
5. Who will help me write a composition entitled "Keep T's Memories", which will be written in several titles, reviewing the past and learning new ones.
Chew the tender past repeatedly, and there will always be new insights and new wisdom.
I still often think of a farce I directed in the first grade.
I lived on campus at that time. It was the first time I hadn't seen my parents for such a long time, only my classmates and teachers. I, still not very sensible, always haggle over every ounce.
There are three students in my dormitory, all top students in my previous school, but they can only maintain a medium level in Baoyi No.1 Middle School, so they are very anxious.
One of the students chose the tactics of asking questions in the sea, and "lit the lamp and swam in the ocean of knowledge" every night. But I also pay attention to it and try not to disturb the two of us, but there will inevitably be the sound of turning over books and writing, sometimes waking me up when I am about to fall asleep.
We should have understood each other and passed. He wants to study hard, you want to sleep, which is contradictory, and he doesn't mean to quarrel with you. Why should he care?
I just don't buy this account and take the lead against that classmate. First of all, I asked the life teacher to change the dormitory one after another and asked that classmate to quit. I also designed him to be caught by the building management and write a 2000-word review, but this did not stop him from studying hard. After losing in the side battlefield, we began to confront each other head-on. Another classmate in my dormitory confronted him. He does his homework at night. We get up in the morning and recite the text loudly. He couldn't bear it any longer and ignored us.
Why do you care? How much benefit can you get from such infighting? What if one leaves and the other comes? What's more, it takes time and energy, and it also loses a rare friendship. It is better to endure it.
But I just don't understand.
Finally, I was forced to take the initiative to quit the struggle. I retired from the dormitory and rented a room near the school. My parents run back and forth one day. At that time, I was happy for a long time.
Now that I think about it, is it worthwhile? Struggle for that little thing paid such a high price-expensive rent and parents' fatigue. It also adds a lot of trouble to the life teacher.
Don't haggle too much.
Looking back and savoring the past, you can't keep time, but what you can keep is the experience given by time. When you are seeking knowledge, recalling the past will sometimes bring you a brand-new road.
6. Write down the time of the event in the composition "Let the past be remembered". The best time is when the flowers bloom, and the time chosen is the most representative.
Then write what happened. It can be
I had a misunderstanding with my best friend, and my friend left, but I couldn't apologize, and I kept repenting. It is a kind of guilt and a kind of aftertaste to think of those times with him again.
(2) I have never forgiven others. Because of small things, I can't meet again until I find that you have forgiven him. When I think of him again, it is also a aftertaste.
. . . . . (Just a hint. )
(End) Those past events bear laughter and pain. It is again-when flowers bloom (that is, time), looking back silently, I find that those past events are already a aftertaste.
It's just an outline I hope I can help you ~ ~)
7. The past becomes a aftertaste. Time can pass, but memory can't be erased.
-Inscription Time flies like an arrow, time flies like a shuttle, and there are many bits and pieces of blooming flowers of memory that make people memorable. The pouring rain outside the window roared down and washed the ground, and the dense raindrops pattered on the roof, treetops, ground and dim lights.
I stood at the window, watching all this, and suddenly I had a feeling of "meeting Yan and returning". I stopped watching, rummaged through my bookcase and searched again and again. I don't know when I started. I'm used to writing down everything around me, because I'm afraid that one day when I'm white-haired, my memory will be blank. Finally, I found a yellow notebook, and when I opened it, it was like opening a dusty memory.
I still remember it was a Saturday. Grandpa and I went to the library to borrow books. As soon as I borrowed books, I saw the gloomy sky, dark clouds in Wan Li and impenetrable dark clouds, giving people a feeling of suffocation. "Grandpa, let's go!" I urged grandpa, because it rained all night and the house leaked. Just a few steps, the heavy rain rushed down without saying hello. I helped grandpa and hid in a supermarket. But my stubborn grandfather refused to go in to save face. He just sat on the doorstep. I looked at the supermarket, then shook my head helplessly and stopped looking, because I was afraid that if I saw it again, I would rush in involuntarily.
It's raining harder and harder, and it gradually devours our "territory". Grandpa and I curled up involuntarily. Just when I was disheartened, a man came out of the shop. He patted me on the shoulder. "When will the rain stop?" I looked at him warily and nodded slowly. "Then when are you leaving?" Well, I thought, the shopkeeper is here to arrest people. I was silent, holding my grandfather, ready to walk into the rain.
"You made a mistake. I'm a customer. I was just leaving when I brought two umbrellas. I just want to ask, are you leaving? I can lend you an umbrella if you like! " I nodded happily and took the umbrella from him. Just when I wanted to thank him, he disappeared in the rain with another umbrella. Grandpa and I came home smoothly, only to find that the umbrella was new and even the trademark had not been torn off! A few days later, I went to the man to change my umbrella, but I couldn't find it for a long time. So I went into the store that sheltered from the rain. It is really "thousands of Baidu looking for him, suddenly looking back, that person is on the counter of the store"! I opened my mouth wide and kept silent.
The rain is getting smaller and smaller, and my thoughts are fading away like this rain. The past is like a dream. When I wake up, things are different.
The way home is: wake up tonight, like water flowing into remembrance; The past goes with the flow, leaving the past as a aftertaste.
8. Leave the past as a aftertaste. In the sun, the trees are in pairs.
Next to the vicissitudes of the old house, people are confused. Flowers in the morning gather at night.
There are flowers and shadows everywhere. Which one have I lost? Once faced with this tranquility, I looked for my yearning in the years. Look for it in the unbeaten flowers, look for it in the rows of old trees, and listen to it in the bustling place where red piles up.
Like a person who has finished his life, he has become a child, watching the butterfly shadow fluttering with countless novel fantasies every day; Like an infatuated lover, watching the station alone in the mottled light and shadow every day; Like a dying old man, calmly waiting for the call. Do you remember what kind of publicity and loneliness there is in this youth with nowhere to put it? In June of that year, the rain was never lonely, and it led the lake to play with it again and again.
By the lake, use your fingertips to stir up ripples on the water surface and get distracted. "What a beautiful hand! It turns out that boys' hands are so slender and clean. It must be great to play the piano. "
Ear is heartfelt admiration. "I also hope to follow Chopin with both hands!" After all, it failed.
A stone quickly broke the calm of the lake, and a water pipe rolled like a wave. Footsteps behind him are getting closer and closer, and then sit down.
"I still think grandeur is the most beautiful, and life should be like a fire ECG!" The words are full of enthusiasm, showing the pride of "I am the king of the world." Quietly, the rain, like an impatient child, left the lake to find a new playmate.
In the sky after the rain, the clouds are light and the wind is light, the rainbow comes as scheduled, and the smell of soil comes to the nose. Everyone has his own interests.
Or want to dance with ink and rice paper; Or want to gallop in the green, holding a golden cup; Even in business politics, it attracts the attention of the whole world. Although all dreams are dead, they are still as beautiful and gorgeous as broken bubbles.
So he waved goodbye. Time flies, just like walking through flowers and ancient times, like a lifetime ago.
Even on the deck, this ancient ship sailing into the soul harbor seems to reproduce the frivolous teenager on the Titanic. In the past
Dissatisfaction matters. Go-die- endless aftertaste, was it the romance pursued in those days? Is it an illusion that was once constructed? Or do you steal the words from the tree when you are thoughtful, but make yourself dumbfounded? Mature lovers, or old singers, look at the horizon.
This is a funeral and a baptism. I kept it in my heart, but in the end I could only silently introduce it to the grave. This is its final destination. Please forgive me, because some things are only suitable for collection, and you can't say it or forget it.
No ending is not a tragedy, that's all. The sky is full of youth, no longer gorgeous, and it will freeze for a while.
Older lovers are still dying singers, doing whatever they want. I smiled and turned away, my heart was full of memories and my mouth was full of aftertaste.
With its endless desires, the universe refines the songs and dances in my heart into eternity. What kind of human names are buried in all my memories can be ignored. Can you hold it down? .