Part 1: Another year of struggle
Spring passes and autumn comes, and time flies. Looking back, the first day of junior high school was like water in my hand, seeping into the sand drop by drop. I didn't even remember it at all. I only had the terrible results waiting for me to accept them. Even if I didn't feel good about it, I regretted it. In the sigh, I regretted why I didn't study hard at that time, and in the sigh, I criticized myself for not doing my job properly. One of my main goals is to kill myself all day long. Now, the results of playing for a semester are right in front of my eyes, but I don't dare to open my eyes and face it, trying to deceive myself that it's not a big deal to take an indifferent exam.
Now in the second year of junior high school, a new starting point, a new beginning, like a pure white paper waiting for my graffiti, how should I face it? Will you surrender like the first grade of junior high school, or will you create a new self? Given the choice, I think I chose the latter. Nowadays, I no longer think about class after class, I think about school after class, and I think about vacation after school...
Yes! Now is the time to work hard. A new plan, a new self, and a new goal are all the cornerstones for me to reach the sky. The gray fog in the pupils of the past has long since dissipated, shining with a light that cannot be concealed; the right hand that used to weigh a thousand pounds is now released, not missing any opportunity to show itself; the brain that used to be entangled with nine locks can also rely on a will The key to unlock the seal...
I believe that my potential is unlimited, and the effort is always proportional to the harvest. Plant a seed of hard work, and it will naturally grow into a towering tree in hope. , the joy of the harvest always makes us proud, the fruitful achievements always make us proud, the autumn leaves bear witness to every night of my hard study...
Every time the teacher’s eyes of approval are directed at me An encouragement. Every time the teacher talks to me sincerely, it is an encouragement to me. Every time the teacher smiles at me with joy, it is an affirmation for me... Accumulation will always make my wings fuller. Now, It’s time to work hard! The steps under my feet will always help me climb higher! Chapter 2: It’s the college entrance examination time again
The air is once again filled with the atmosphere of the college entrance examination, and it’s the college entrance examination time again.
On the 5th, we were arranging tables and chairs in the class and even laughed and talked. This is the last time we are busy for others. Next year, we will arrange the examination room for ourselves.
"Your only task now is to study, and your goal is the college entrance examination. For this goal, you must get good grades; you must let go of many things that you think are important." The teacher warned us again.
Because we are still young and have a lot of youth to squander, we have not yet experienced the darkness and cruelty of society, and we have not yet experienced the seeming fairness and unfairness. Therefore, when facing all kinds of classmates on campus, you don’t need to be so sophisticated, you don’t need to fight for unnecessary face and interests, and you don’t need to be troubled by your own life. Should you be carefree and think about your future? think.
It is said that the second year of high school is the happiest time in the entire high school life, but why do we feel empty and embarrassed? We began to gradually lose an attitude, we began to hesitate in one place, and we lost the courage to move forward. We all know that we shouldn’t be like this, we all know that we should face setbacks calmly and be fearless in the face of difficulties - but it is easier said than done - for example, if you know there is an uncovered manhole in front of you, you will kick it. Step in and fall, then bravely pat your butt and continue to move forward with a smile?
The emptiness of these days is almost inevitable. Generation after generation of people have spent this long year. We are afraid to look forward, so we can only stay where we are and hesitate or turn around to look for the lost beauty. That is not a happy thing. When a person loses hope and expectation, only confusion and helplessness surround you.
We will really become quasi-senior high school students when we go to school the day after tomorrow. We only have 364 days left. Think about it, we will also remember our high school life in a year.
It’s another year of college entrance examination, and we are firmly waiting for the arrival of Utopia... Chapter 3: Another year of flowers blooming composition
“Winter has gone, and the mountains and rivers are beautiful, When spring comes, the birds are singing and the flowers are fragrant. "The vast spring breeze gently blows away the last chill of winter. It is March, the sun is shining brightly, and the spring flowers are blooming. The melting of ice and snow, the blooming of spring flowers, the colorful spring intertwined with flowers...
The endless spring feeling and the surging spring tide all urge me to return to my hometown to visit the people who once shocked my heart. The cherry tree. Full of hope, sitting on the train returning to my hometown, staring at the fleeting scenery outside the window, I not only remembered the past time again.
That was an unfortunate sapling, abandoned on the roadside in front of my house because several branches were broken. However, it is also lucky. My grandfather is a lover of plants and flowers. He is busy tending flowers and plants all day long. Seeing that this cherry seedling still has a chance of survival, he planted it in the open space in front of the door. At that time, I was naive and full of doubts, could this survive?
Indeed, survival is so difficult. The sapling, with only half of its body left and seemingly unable to breathe, was lifeless for dozens of days. It seems to be crying, wetly, it is the tears of the tree, silently, silently. Tree, does it hurt? But there is nothing I can do. But I know that you will never give up, even if there is only a glimmer of hope left.
Yes, you didn’t give up. You remain silent and silent. But you always remind yourself that you have to survive. Perhaps, behind this silence, you are like a newly sprouted grass, passing five levels and killing six generals, using all your strength. Finally, I pulled out the tender yellow and delicate branches, swayed in the wind and rain, grew in the wind and rain, thrived in the wind and rain, and learned how to be a real tree.
When I was young, I grew up with you. As the years passed, I gradually understood more profound truths. In the blink of an eye, I have entered junior high school, and you are still unfortunate. You are tortured by diseases and bugs all day long, which prevents you from shining the most dazzling light in your life.
We are no longer weak flowers. We have experienced wind and rain, we have survived the harsh summers and severe winters, and we have all grown up. You have become so tall and strong, and I am no longer timid or weak. Finally, despite all kinds of obstacles, you succeeded, and the pink cherry flowers finally bloomed on your branches. I am also very happy, because I understand a truth that is deeply rooted in my heart: after falling, get up and endure. Pain, swallow the grievance, never let the tears burst, never let the fragility crawl up from the heart, smile at life, have no regrets.
The train finally entered the station slowly. In the distance, the cherry tree was swaying in the wind, showing its unique grace. The pink flowers were still the same, not pretentious, just fiery life. How so. Touching and beautiful! It’s time for flowers to bloom again... Chapter 4: It’s time for flowers to bloom again.
The mountain behind my hometown is blooming red again. I know it is azalea. Thousands of rhododendrons, like balls of burning flames, illuminate the mountainside red. In this fiery red, I seem to see her running towards me happily again...
She is like this azalea, warm and innocent, making others famous. Because of her, I got out of my uncommunicative and self-isolated self.
That year, it was also spring, and it was also on the mountain full of azaleas. The story of me and her began. That day, the classmates spontaneously organized a spring outing. When we got to the mountain, everyone was playing happily together, but I just sat on the big rock aside, holding a book. I knew clearly that my heart was not in the book. Those bursts of laughter kept stimulating my eardrums. How eager I was to join them!
"You definitely want to play with your classmates, right?" At this time, she sat next to me. I don’t know how she saw my inner thoughts. Maybe she had been paying attention to me for a long time and caught the envy that inadvertently showed in the corners of my eyes. "Yeah." I nodded and added, "I, I'm worried that they will ignore me..." She smiled heartily after hearing my words and said, "Look, don't I ignore you? You haven't tried it before. Do you know that they ignore you? Let's go, don't leave any regrets for yourself!" Her words "Don't leave any regrets for yourself" touched my heart, and I was a little hesitant. She noticed my hesitation again and continued: "Don't hesitate! Trust me, let's go!"
The process after that was much smoother than expected. It seemed that I was one of them. . She kept holding my hand, and her words were like spring breeze, blowing my anxious heart. We talked very casually, and I asked her what her favorite flower was, and she said she liked azaleas. She told me the legend about azaleas: There was an emperor in the ancient Shu Kingdom, Du Yu, who was extremely in love with the queen. He was framed by an adulterer and died miserably. His soul turned into a cuckoo, and he sang in the queen's garden every day, with one teardrop. A drop of blood dyed the flowers in the garden red. The queen knew that it was her husband who had transformed her into a melancholy woman. She died in depression, and her soul turned into fiery red azaleas that bloomed all over the mountains and fields, so azaleas are also called azaleas.
I don’t remember what we played that day, I just know that it was the happiest day for me. Our bright smiles are particularly dazzling against the rhododendrons on the mountain. From that day on, I gradually became cheerful. I became close friends with her. Unfortunately, the next year, she went out of town with her parents and could no longer be contacted.
Now, the azaleas all over the mountain are blooming again, and the scenery here remains the same, but I will never see her again. I thought about her words again, and gradually understood why she liked azaleas. Rhododendron represents the joy of love, and people who like this flower are innocent. It only blooms in its own flower season, always giving people a lively and noisy feeling.
Now, I see the mountains full of rhododendrons blooming in full bloom. Are you okay in the distance? Chapter 5: It’s the cicada time again
On a quiet night, I was crouching at my desk in front of the window, and suddenly the cicadas were chirping, chirping "chirp-", and with the breeze, this quiet night became more and more quiet and profound. This must be what Xin Qiji felt when he said "Cicadas chirping in the breeze in the middle of the night", peaceful and melodious. Simply close your eyes slightly and recall those hot summer days with the chirping of cicadas and the happy times that can never be returned.
I was young and impetuous at that time, and the intertwined chirping of cicadas turned into a kind of noise in my ears. The hotter the day, the more cheerful it became, but I will never forget the time when I was a child catching cicadas. What a joy it is.
There are towering trees everywhere in the elementary school, and the spring and summer are full of shade. When the summer solstice comes, the cicadas quietly emerge from the soil, and they sing one after another invisibly in every hot summer. After class, I hunted cicadas with my friends. I was responsible for finding the cicadas, and the skilled friends each held a long tree trunk.
As soon as I said, "Hey, there's one here!" I stared at the cicada lying on the branch, and with a swish, I stretched out the long trunk, and the cicada was caught in the net bucket on the tip of the bamboo pole. When the cover fell off, the friends immediately stepped forward to catch it, while the cicada struggled desperately and screamed.
In this way, in the summer of my childhood, my ears were always filled with the sound of cicadas. At that time, the soul is often overflowing with a kind of happiness.
Later, as I grew older and had more books at hand, I realized that cicadas have an unusual fate: nine out of ten times, cicadas spend their entire lives growing in the soil. First, the egg falls into the soil, breaks out of the shell, and then hides and bides its time in the soil, feeds itself well, and waits for the day of transformation to come. It takes a whole year to wait for this moment. When they hear the chirping of cicadas and see their shadows, it is the last week or even days of their lives. Fabre summarized the cicada's life in one concise sentence: The cicada bathes in the wind and shower gel, drinks the aura of heaven and earth, absorbs the essence of all trees, hibernates for four years, and gets only the "spring" of a short one-month life. I can't help but feel a little ashamed when I think of my behavior of catching cicadas at that time.
Year after year. The sound of cicadas rises and falls again, and I grow up listening to the sound of cicadas. Now, the same sound of cicadas brought me a different feeling.
Some people say that cicada is the embodiment of tragedy. I don't think so. From the tireless singing of cicadas, all I feel is the happiness of cicadas. "The remaining summer cicadas have driven away, and the new autumn has been brought by wild geese." Summer has passed, and the cicadas have disappeared one by one. I know that it is the cicada's last song of life that sends away the long hot summer, and also sends away the "spring" of its own life.
Listen to the cicada and understand the cicada. Feelings through cicadas. If a person can be like a cicada, fully displaying the youth of life and singing the joy of life in a short period of time, and the cicada has the same pronunciation as Zen, I wonder if this is the "Zen state" that people often call it. Although this cicada is not that Zen, it is not easy to reach the cicada's persistent, calm and noble state. Sometimes, people may not be able to have the freedom and happiness of cicadas singing, the freedom and ease of life. In this sense, perhaps humans are worse than cicadas. Secretly ashamed.
At night, it’s quiet. The sound of cicadas can still be heard from time to time. At this moment, I suddenly understood a truth: all things can be contented by observing them quietly.
The invisible sound of cicadas has clearly penetrated my soul. Chapter 6: Another year when the wind blows
I have always been surrounded by the breeze of love. The breeze picked up again, and I was wearing a sweater knitted by my mother. What was draped over my shoulders was the love woven by her skillful hands. Because of those hands, I am more determined, and I have always been bathed in the spring breeze of love.
After finishing the housework, the family gathered together to watch TV. My mother seemed to be amused by the humorous plot. She covered her mouth with her hands and giggled. I was staring at my mother's hands. The smile on his face stopped. Those hands were so rough and lost their luster. I was slightly startled, and the fragmentary fragments jumped in my mind...
It's autumn, and my mother, who has been busy all day, found an adventure and started knitting a sweater for me.
The dim yellow light of the incandescent lamp shines on my mother's body. Her diligent shadow is full of warmth. Stitch by stitch, stitch by stitch, the speed of my mother's hands brings a gust of wind. , I know that this speed is filled with an unspeakable love. There is a sense of satisfaction written in her pattern - yes, it will be knitted soon.
Mom is like a writer, wool is her gentle words, and every article is filled with care; mother is also like a gardener, wool is her beloved flower, every stitch and every thread is devoted to it. warm. Her rough, calloused hands stopped, stroking her excellent results, and then used her thick fingers to press the acupuncture points on her hands to rest.
"Come on, baby, try it on and see if it fits you. The color of this wool is your favorite!" I happily put it on and showed it to my mother, who beamed with joy and expressed it with a sticky warmth. Looking at me, she kept saying: "It looks good! It really looks good!" When I put on the sweater, a warm breeze seemed to blow in my heart. This is the warm wind of love that makes me deeply intoxicated...
Suddenly I remembered that the sound of the TV gradually disappeared, and the warm and refreshing example in my mind came to my mind again.
My mother always used her scarred hands to cook a pot of delicious food for me, which made me a feast; on rainy days, my mother used her thick hands to hold an umbrella for me... When I think of her tenderness , which makes my eyes unclear. It is this little bit of care that blows a burst of warmth and a burst of love in my heart.
The wind blows again. I will never forget it again. I will never forget the love made by my mother. Thank you for letting me grow up in the minutes of love. Let me bathe in the gentle breeze of love with a lot of heart. gratitude. Chapter 7: Another season of blooming flowers
If memories had a smell, it would be the scent of camphor, sweet and steady, like clearly remembered happiness; sweet and melancholy, like forgotten sorrow.
——Zhang Ailing
Who is it? In the autumn night in a foreign land where the river is exposed, I don't know the fragrance of osmanthus and ignore the fragrance of wine. I just utter a poem with a unique charm in such a paranoid way - the moon is the brightness of my hometown. It's simple, light and shallow, but it tells the truth in one sentence, and it touches my emotions with my hometown.
My wonderful childhood was spent in my hometown.
At that time, my grandma liked to hold me and sit under the sweet-scented osmanthus tree in the yard, gently rocking me, and singing beautiful songs, "Shake, shake, shake to Grandma's Bridge..." I was shaken by her like this, and the water was flowing. Looking at her with his eyes, he chuckled.
When the sweet-scented osmanthus blooms, it is also the time when grandma is most busy and happy. The fragrant osmanthus fragrance can be smelled dozens of miles away, attracting many people to stop and look up. The autumn wind blew, and the flowers fell from the trees one after another, spreading thinly over the entire yard, like soft cotton batting. Grandma would pick up these sweet-scented osmanthus flowers and make them into sachets. One was hung around my neck and the other was put in her pocket. She said: "None of us can throw away the sachet until the flowers bloom next season. This is our agreement." I said: " "Okay!" "Hang yourself with a hook, and it won't change for a hundred years!"...
Grandma's hands are very skillful. The fragrant osmanthus cake is my favorite dessert. I sip a few sips of the light osmanthus tea from time to time. The corners of the tongue are full of sweetness. When grandma wasn't paying attention, I would naughtily dip my fingers into the osmanthus wine and eat it. Bitter and sweet, with a hint of osmanthus in the sourness. After repeated attempts, I was finally discovered by my grandma. I was so frightened that I ran straight into the yard and tried to climb up the sweet-scented osmanthus tree, but failed and slid straight down. So I was hugged by my grandma and refused to let go... < /p>
Day after day, my grandma and I sat under the sweet-scented osmanthus tree and witnessed its growth.
I was not lonely when I was with my grandmother in my childhood. But later, because of my parents’ work, I left my hometown and went to a different place. I am very lonely in the busy city. I often think of my grandmother and the sweet-scented osmanthus tree in the yard. One day, my mother told me that my grandma was sick and was admitted to the hospital. I quickly ran to see her.
When I opened the door to the ward, what came to my face was not the fragrance of fentanyl but the faint scent of osmanthus. I saw several sachets placed on my grandmother's bedside. Grandma told me that she had made it in the autumns of these years and had kept it for me. I couldn’t go back on my words when I was a kid! I held the sachet and burst into tears - I had already forgotten the promise I made when I was young!
After my grandma passed away, I went to see the sweet-scented osmanthus tree again. It had grown taller. I hugged it deeply and pressed it against my ears, hoping to hear me from its thick branches. The laughter and laughter in the past with my grandma try to evoke childhood memories...
Those lost times will never come back, never. My grandma and I seem to be two parallel lines, never intersecting. Just silently looking forward to the day they meet again.
The moon is the brightness of my hometown - that voice traveled through the frost and night for thousands of years, telling me the most irrefutable reason. I breathed in gently, it was another season of blooming flowers. Chapter 8: It’s spring time again and the flowers are blooming.
“The weather, people, events, and the sun are all working together”,
“The winter solstice is full of sunshine and spring is here again.”
Because I have experienced a mild winter with a bit of coldness, I unconsciously thought that the climate would always be like this. But it just didn't happen. At the beginning of spring, I felt a sense of spring. Although the wind that blows gently sometimes is still so hard, the temperature is still so low, the melting ice and snow, the thawing earth, and the sunny and colorful spring...
Intuition tells Me: This is the "voice of spring" calling the earth. Calling for what? Is it the beginning of life? Maybe so. Is it the resurrection of all things? Maybe so. In short, all these are the seeds sown by the "God of Spring" after hard work. He is full of beautiful hopes and gives the "power of spring" to all things on the earth, making everything full of birds and flowers and full of vitality. And we are also inspired by the "God of Spring" to spend the beautiful moments of spring after spring in the long spring with many past events. Children grow up day by day, youth mature year by year, middle age moves towards old age step by step, and old age is not willing to die. Because only under the magic wand waving by the "God of Spring", will there be a beautiful and moving "spring"!
As winter turns to spring, the willows turn green, and the warm spring breeze blows the endless green wheat fields and ruffles the quietly flowing river. The sweet spring rain is as light as spider silk, as thin as the tip of a needle, as long as a thread, and spreads densely to the earth like a sieve.
Although the charm of spring is endless, "when the flowers bloom, they will definitely fall." As the saying goes, "Falling red is not a heartless thing, it turns into spring mud to protect flowers." Perhaps this is how spring maintains its holy "body", which means reproduction and reproduction. However, who knows that in this spring year after year, everyone is preparing everything to welcome the next spring year? It turns out that everything in the world embarks on a long journey in such an environment. It sounds quite sad, but also very tragic. It can be seen that on this day when human beings can truly face reality, how will they treat these spring flowers blooming year after year? Is it joy? Is it worry? Is it happiness? Or sad?
Of course, joy, anger, sorrow, and joy are the unique nature of each person. It is precisely because of these different personalities that diverse worlds are combined and endless groups are separated. We have spent year after year in the warmth of spring and the flowers are blooming. Similarly, we have been soaked in the vicissitudes of life, experienced hardships and setbacks year after year. Therefore, there are four seasons, the alternation of cold and heat; and even every chapter and section of life.
But no matter what, we have to face the reality, that is, another year of spring flowers has begun...