1. Listen to the voice narrative of memories
We are like the rising sun, rising slowly from the other side of the ocean of knowledge to the rhythm of youth. You are like that ray of morning light, always growing with me.
Memories flowed into a river. I passed by the shore, closed my eyes, and felt the joy and sorrow mixed together. I heard the voice of memories.
You used to be high-spirited, standing on the stage of your life, swaying your sweat and sowing your hope. You are like a red candle, dedicating all your light and heat; you are like a flying bird, nurturing thousands of little chicks; you are like a sweet spring, nourishing countless growing seedlings.
You used to be a high-spirited person. When we were full of curiosity about the world, you chatted with us and commented on the past and the present. You taught us the emotion of love, and you tearfully expressed your gratitude and longing for your teacher. A man never sheds tears easily. You dedicated those precious tears to your teachers and students. You have taught us what gratitude is and what love is.
You used to be good at teaching us, and when we were confused and at the first crossroads of our own lives, you told us: "Everything you do now is not for others, but for your own blooming. "Therefore, we work hard, we fight hard, for your hope, for our own blooming, for every tear and sweat full of love that you shed so hard, we live up to your expectations and collectively teach a lesson. Satisfactory answer.
Noon, scorching light.
We are like the sun at noon, emitting dazzling light, making our lives shine. You are like that ray of afternoon sun, warm and sad.
In that life, I traveled around mountains, rivers, and pagodas, not to cultivate the next life, but maybe just to meet you on the way.
We will eventually leave you and move towards a new starting point. I only remember that day, it was raining continuously, and God couldn't help crying. You smiled and said, "Let's go!" None of us dared to look up into your eyes. Maybe your eyes were filled with tears, or maybe you wanted to send off your last graduate with a smile. When we hugged you one by one, I couldn't help shouting in my heart: "Teacher, do you know how much I love you!" Turning around, I heard you whisper: "Goodbye, my lovely children." With a hint of sob. None of us are willing to take another step forward. "Teacher, please, don't leave us!" "Teacher, can we be greedy and stay with you for a while longer."
My dearest you, do you know how warm your hug is.
In this way, we embarked on a new journey with your heavy love for us and our deep reluctance to leave you.
In the evening, the beautiful sunset.
You are like the ray of light in the evening, soft and vicissitudes of life, and we are the glowing dreams that you have devoted your life to caring for and cultivating, green and strong.
I want to live in your world forever. Have you ever remembered that you still owe me a little time?
While we are working hard with your dreams, you evaporate and disappear into our time like air. Those fleeting years passed by like a glimpse, like a box covered with dust in the attic of an old house. The gentle warm light of the setting sun evaporated with a moist and fishy atmosphere. After going through the wind and rain, you came back with a message of vicissitudes and sadness. During this period of time without us, your family, your work, and your life have undergone great changes. Your wife went crazy and got divorced, and you are now alone. You said: "What exists is reasonable, and your current weakness just proves that you have always been so strong." You are like a giant standing tall, full of positive energy all the time, bringing infinite impact and shock to my soul. . Your vicissitudes of life have given you strength like steel.
Thank you for the honor you gave me. I want to bow deeply for you. I used to be so ordinary.
There are so many beautiful words in the world that praise the nobility of the teaching profession, and there are so many beautiful poems that praise the greatness of the teaching profession. Praise teachers as the most glorious profession under the sun, praise teachers as engineers of the human soul, teachers as parents, and the greatest mother besides the earth. And I want to say that teachers are sunshine, allowing us to thrive and making our dreams shine.
In this golden September, on this Teacher's Day again, please listen to my voice of gratitude: Teacher, happy holidays.
2. How to write the composition "Missing a Sound"
Missing a Sound There is a sound that makes the middle-aged painter miss it more and more. This sound is very wonderful, with color, shape and temperature. , and there are emotional stories mixed in it. But now he can no longer hear it. He knows that this kind of sound only exists in an alley in the ancient city, in the small courtyard and the old house where his family has lived for generations. In the yard, there is a plum tree, two sycamore trees, a jar of lotus flowers, and a few rows of ornamental leeks. The old house is a two-story building with a brick and wood structure, and the upper and lower parts present a bronze tone. This kind of The sound was called the sound of rain. The sound of rain kept coming from the direction where he was born and grew up. In his memory, there was always a mist and sound of rain, and the sun was always invisible. Spring rain, summer rain, autumn rain , Winter Rain. When it rained, his father would always stand on the steps of the old house, listening to the sound of rain in the yard, mesmerized. Then he would call the young man to his side and tell him many ancient poems about rain: "Spring leeks are cut in the night rain", "Plums are yellow in the rain", "Rain at midnight on the sycamore leaves", "The remaining lotus leaves are left to listen to the sound of rain"... He couldn't understand, but he understood the brilliant colors of the rain dyed by the flowers and leaves. .Then, they returned to the hall and sat down, and Dad said: "Listen -" After repeating these two words countless times, his ears became sensitive: the raindrops were small and dense at first, then fell on the thin On the green tiles, there is a tinkling tinkling sound, like pearls dancing in a jade plate; when it hits the glass tiles, the sound is sharp and crisp, like the high notes of a piano; when the raindrops hit the wooden roof, the sound is delicate and smooth; but The sound of rain on the carved cornice of the front hall was, on the contrary, deep and simple; the sound of rain on the granite steps was calm and full of force. There is a saying in the ancient city: "When it rains, it is the day when guests stay." He remembered that when it rained, the sound of rain at home would be heard. There will be guests arriving unexpectedly, all of whom are close friends of his father. Is the rain an invitation? In the sound of rain, they talked about heaven, humanity, medicine, and art; or they played Go, and the sound of falling pieces intertwined with the sound of rain; or they played Jinghu and sang famous Peking opera pieces they were familiar with, and the notes passed through the gaps in the rain. , unexpectedly not wet... He sat on the side, watching and listening, like a dream. In the sound of rain, he grew up, got married, and became a father... The alley, the old house and the rain became him The strangest background of life. On rainy days, he would also tell his son those ancient poems about rain. There would always be friends coming to his studio hand in hand. Spring rain, summer rain, autumn rain, winter rain. Suddenly One day, this piece of land was allocated to a real estate developer, and he and his family moved into Century Garden sadly. The alley was gone, the old house was gone, and the sound of rain in his memory was gone! The huge regular cement box is embedded with nests made of concrete, glass and steel. The sound of rain appears dull gray, and the rhythm is dull and depressing. 3. The memories that singing brings to me Composition
The memories that singing brings to me
The first time I listened to "The Moment" by Stefanie Sun was on a rainy day. I quietly looked out the window, watching the small water droplets splashed by the raindrops on the glass. The ticking of the rain mixed with Yan Zi's singing, which brought back my memories.
"At this moment, when I look back and see myself, I have mixed feelings along the way."
In the wonderful life of junior high school, I was always very happy, because I was with my friends. Together. Among them, there was a lollipop that bribed me not to hand in my physics homework; there was Tao, who used a watering can as a microphone after class and roared throughout the classroom; there was Bin, whose pen-turning skills were so good that I had to worship him as his teacher. ; and Wei, who is strong inside and soft on the outside, with excellent grades... They inject a water-like softness into my restless life. When we are happy, we will share this happiness together; when we are sad, we will also send some comfort to each other. They have become unforgettable people in my campus life.
"Because of you, I am full of confidence in the future." At the age of 15, I became proud and unwilling to make progress because of my small achievements in study. It was my teacher in junior high school who changed me. She is rigorous in her studies and has strict requirements for her students, ranging from how to behave to how to write well. Whenever she had spare time, she would choose some articles containing life philosophy and read them to us. Although she is not a Chinese teacher or a class teacher. From these articles, I gradually put away my proud heart and understood the teacher's intention. It was she who made me see myself clearly. In the third year of junior high school, functions became my biggest headache. Facing several failed exams, I lost confidence and was full of fear about the high school entrance examination. It was she who sacrificed her days off to make up lessons for me without asking for any reward. It is she who makes me confident about the future.
"The next moment, where will I fly to?" Walking on the edge of 15 years old, I entered the gate of high school. Facing the unfamiliar environment, I was at a loss. Suddenly they were missing from my side, I felt so lonely. The study in high school is extremely heavy and I feel tired, but I can't give up, because those beautiful dreams that are still flying give me courage and keep moving forward 4. There is a voice deep in my memory 600-word composition < /p>
"Bang-bang!" A deafening loud popcorn sound broke the calm of the street, as if it was going to shock people deep into the brain. It has become difficult to see popcorn vendors on the streets these days. Now, when I hear them, I feel an indescribable sense of familiarity, as if I am seeing the figure of my own childhood.
When I was a child, I could always see a few vendors buying popcorn on the roadside. The gourd-shaped popcorn machine seemed to me to be a magical container.
Just listen to the stall owner shouting - "Popcorn -", the children around will quickly cover their ears, followed by a loud sound like the angry god of thunder, those small corn particles, like White flowers bloomed like vying to show off.
I loved popcorn at that time, but I was very frightened by the harsh sound and never dared to buy popcorn alone.
At this time, my mother seemed to see through my thoughts. She always took me to wander the streets hand in hand, just to find a popcorn vendor with me.
Whenever the stall owner started shouting, my mother's warm hands would cover my ears in time, and step back a little from time to time, and then a little further. Suddenly there was a sound! The loud noise I heard in my ears turned into a muffled drum sound. Not only was it less unbearable, it was also quite nice!
Whenever I ask my mother if she is afraid of that sound, she will always smile and say: "Why should you be afraid? That is the spell that makes the corn kernels bloom." I couldn't help but cry after hearing this The sound of popcorn seems to have become very friendly in my heart.
Under the unique "processing" of my mother, the deafening sound was compiled into a magical movement, which made my childhood life no longer so monotonous. It seemed to be full of the "sweetness" of popcorn, which made me Unforgettable to this day.
Life is like records placed on a gramophone. The music of memories is played under the needle, babbling and talking about the past time. Some of the sound quality has long been degraded by the wear and tear of time. Blurred.
However, there is a sound that I will never forget. It is still as loud as yesterday. 5. That sound is evocative 800 essay
That sound is evocative
Sound. Such an ordinary word, even it lingers in our ears every moment. It has been with us since we landed.
When I was born, my loud cry witnessed my arrival, the nurse's joyful conversation, and my mother's choked sobs with a smile when she saw me. Hitting my nascent eardrums. This is the most beautiful string of notes at the beginning of life, although I have forgotten it.
Later, when I went to kindergarten, I remember the first time my aunt opened the piano cover, and the sound flying out of the keys made me forget where I was. The melodious melody that I have never heard before magically takes my thoughts far away. I seemed to smell the fragrance of jasmine, the grassy fragrance of the Austrian Alps, and the sound of the water on the Danube River.
I finally went to elementary school, and the rush to class *** became the accompaniment of my running, as well as the teacher’s instructing voice, the majestic national anthem on Monday, the beautiful singing voice of the chorus teacher... became me The remembrance of every word in my childhood is like tears, and the symphony that is far away from me will make me. The sound was evocative
The sound. Such an ordinary word, even it lingers in our ears every moment. It has been with us since we landed.
When I was born, my loud cry witnessed my arrival, the nurse's joyful conversation, and my mother's choked sobs with a smile when she saw me. Hitting my nascent eardrums. This is the most beautiful string of notes at the beginning of life, although I have forgotten it.
Later, when I went to kindergarten, I remember the first time my aunt opened the piano cover, and the sound flying out of the keys made me forget where I was. The melodious melody that I have never heard before magically takes my thoughts far away. I seem to smell the fragrance of jasmine, the grassy fragrance of the Austrian Alps, and the sound of the water on the Danube River.
I finally went to elementary school, and the rush to class *** became the accompaniment of my running, as well as the teacher’s instructing voice, the majestic national anthem on Monday, the beautiful singing voice of the chorus teacher... became me The tearful remembrance of my childhood, the symphony that has left me, makes me miss it so much, dream about it because I miss it, and not even dream about it because I dare not miss it.
It’s a dream, it’s a dream, if you can’t dream, the cold water flows empty.
When the mute sounds of the past years have gone with the cold water, I stand on the new campus.
The rush of new life is like a loud noise, and I gradually become numb to all the sounds around me. When life is a repetitive tone every day, suddenly, in the late spring and early summer last year, a loud sound of landslides and ground cracks broke the tranquility. In an instant, what concerned everyone was the cry for help from Shu, the circling sound of helicopters, the screaming sound of ambulances... In addition, there were also the cheers and shouts of people from all over the country. It seems that the world has become quiet again for a moment. The most profound thing in my memory is the sound of sirens blowing on National Disaster Day. Even the silence has turned into a sad noise.
……
Time flies, years change, and I can’t remember the soul-shaking sounds I have heard. There are too many of them, resounding throughout my young life.
But there are always some sounds that are worth listening to again and again and recalling from time to time. It is their invisible hands that outline another picture of soul and life. Maybe after many years, I will have grown old, and all the noise and roar in my life will have come to an end. At the time of my death, maybe there will be only silence in my ears. That kind of silence is a collection of the sounds of life, full of passion, joy, pain, and happiness, and finally falls into silence.
——There is no silence more beautiful than this. 6. There is a voice deep in the memory. Essay 600 words. Sample essay
Memories on campus. Memories on campus are very scattered and dull; there are happiness and sadness.
There is happiness and sadness in the ordinary. Closing my eyes, I still clearly remember the scene of that day: the green leaves of the plane trees on campus rustled in the breeze, and the air was filled with the unique fresh smell of plants.
A group of childish children on the teaching floor are celebrating the end of the final exam. The relaxed mood seems to have been gone for a long time. From the deep curvature of the corners of their mouths, it can be clearly understood that at this moment They are really happy. Paper airplanes are constantly hovering on the playground, carrying their happiness and dreams.
That is the memory of the last day of my primary school career. At that time, we spent it in laughter, but little did we know that the fate of separation was waiting for us. Entering a new campus and a new class, there is too much helplessness and sadness in the smile.
Time passes day by day, gradually diluting our beautiful memories and the indestructible emotions. The affectionate greetings in the past were all forgotten by the expressions on their faces when they met.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I was determined not to let them flow down. You may have forgotten the time we spent sprinting on the playground; the cautious scenes when we caught tadpoles in the fields; and the soft words you comforted me when you saw me sad or uneasy.
So many memories, forgotten? Really forgot. It's like having amnesia and can't remember it anymore.
Why can’t we go back even now? I think a wall has clearly divided us. You look at me for a while and look at the clouds for a while.
I feel that you are far away when you look at me, and very close when you look at the clouds. 3. Memories on campus Five years have passed in a flash, and I am about to graduate.
At this moment, the ups and downs of what happened on campus came to my mind, turning into a boat of memory, sailing towards the place that told my childhood. Acid - The annual sports meeting is about to begin.
As a relay team member, I practice hard during every physical education class (because I was the first in the relay race in the last few sports meets). The good times didn't last long, because running was a heavy exercise. Not long after, my asthma broke out again. What a competition! In desperation, I had to take leave and find someone to take my place.
On the day of the sports meeting, watching the athletes' agility, I couldn't help but recall my "heroic appearance": galloping on the green football field like a horse, with two braids flying in the wind...ah! I'm intoxicated! But right now, I'm just a cheerleader. Thinking of that scene, I feel sour in my heart. It's not a good feeling! Sweet - haha, this June 1st, the teacher told me a piece of news that made me so happy that I almost lost my breath: I won the second prize in both the essay competition and the on-site essay in school! Yes, hard work and harvest. I think back on when I went home every day, the first thing I did was not to write my homework, but to revise my essay over and over again, and shed tears again and again. Finally, my article won the award. ! A kind of joy and excitement arises spontaneously, as if in a dream.
Bitterness - the exam is coming, and the homework is twice as much as usual. It seems that I will have to stay up late at night! Sure enough, with your eyes hanging above the sea of ??questions and your head sinking under the sea of ??questions, it is really a pain that ordinary people cannot experience! Also, if you don’t do well in the exam, you will not only be scolded when you go home, but you will also have to eat a meal of stir-fried bitter melon! Spicy - the final exam is here. I walked into the exam room with a smile on my face and waited confidently for the invigilator to hand out the exam papers. After I got the test paper, I wrote hard, but after just 5 minutes of writing, I got stuck! I have been thinking hard about this question to no avail. What should I do? Come on, please help me! "Classmates, there are still 30 minutes!" What! I still have an essay to write! "Classmates, it's time!" Ah! How miserable! The number of words in my composition is still far behind! At this moment, my heart felt like I had filled dozens of bottles of chili sauce, it was so spicy.
Looking at the bricks, tiles, plants and trees on the campus, staring ahead, I reminisced... 7. Composition of sounds deep in memory
The moon disappears and the stars appear, the breeze returns, and the trivialities of daily life and the annoyances of life disappear unconsciously.
Fold willow branches to make strings for the piano, which can be strummed and played; brew the autumn wind into a horn, which can be sounded and sung; brew green tea to make a clear spring, which can be tasted and tasted. I want to listen to the voice buried deep in my heart and echoing in my ears.
In that remote rural town, in that home full of warm memories. In the spacious courtyard, there are several small trees with swaying mantles and staggered draped Buddhas, which blow away the entanglement of thoughts and bring back childhood memories.
In front of the yard is a chicken coop, surrounded by red bricks made of wood that have not changed for thousands of years. No one cares about it. On the periphery of the yard, there are several wheat straw chrysanthemums planted. In the middle of the yard, there was a well standing solemnly. It was made of bluestone bricks and covered with thick wooden boards. There were no complicated sawdust around it, as if it was growing out of the ground.
In my memory, I always lie down by the well and watch my grandfather remove the manhole cover, and he is always willing to demonstrate to me. The breath of the ground, with the aroma of earth, comes to you.
I looked at the small well, from which I could see through the sky and the other illusory world there. This always made me so happy that I could spend a summer vacation enjoying it. "Plop", the iron bucket touched the bottom of the well, the calm water surface was disturbed, and the reflection became erratic. There were only the ripples, the slowly rising transparent bubbles, and the splashing white Little splash.
I stared at all the changes, and I could still hear in my ears the iron bucket turning back at the bottom of the well, and finally being gradually swallowed by the calm water. Quietly.
Grandpa always soaks the fruits and vegetables in the water early when I am coming. In summer, the well water is cool, and the soaked fruits and vegetables are more refreshing than those in the refrigerator.
At that time, my grandpa always sat on a small stool at the door, shaking the small sandalwood fan, chatting with the man next door, looking at the long road leading to the city, and I It was as if I could see his disappointed and leaving figure, so desolate and powerless. When I came here again, the house did not change at all due to the owner's departure. It seemed that everything should be so peaceful.
In the middle of the yard, the well was still there. I tried my best to remove the manhole cover and put it aside. The breath of the ground suddenly came down, carrying the fragrance of earth. The cold autumn rain hit the well, and the cold autumn rain pierced my fragile glass heart like a sharp sword.
I stared helplessly at the well, thinking about my grandfather’s leaving figure, and the warmth in my heart seemed to disappear.
The tietong beside the well is no longer there, but I heard a real "plop" sound. 8. How to write a 400-word essay about hearing a sound that arouses memories
Beep------" Every time I hear the sound of a motorcycle flash past my ears, my feet I unconsciously moved to the side, and that picture kept popping up in my mind... It happened when I was five years old, and I was in kindergarten.
Just as I was running home excitedly. , unaware that a terrible thing was about to happen. I jumped up and down on the road, my parents chasing me, and shouting: "Son, wait a minute--" I am always naughty. He smiled, and then shouted: "Mom and dad are so useless, they can't catch up with me. "
Then I continued to run forward. I quickly arrived at the gate of the community. When I was crossing the road, a motorcycle came speeding by. My mother and father shouted together: "Son, be careful--- ---" I heard my parents shouting, turned around and asked innocently: "What's wrong? "I heard a harsh sound: "Beep------" My eyes suddenly blurred. I only saw my mother and father running over, as if they said something, and then I couldn't see anything.
When I woke up, I saw my mother and father standing outside the door. I was lying in a big house, and a machine was moving above my head. I later learned that I was accidentally hit during the X-ray scan when I was a child. , leaving an indelible memory in my little heart, let me know that there is something called family love in this world.
The sound of the motorcycle evokes my memories. 9. The sound is evocative. 800Composition
That sound is evocative.
Such an ordinary word has been with us since we landed. .
When I was born, my loud cry witnessed my arrival, and the nurse’s joyful conversation and my mother’s sobs with a smile hit my newborn eardrums. p>
This was the most beautiful string of notes at the beginning of my life, although I had forgotten it. Later, when I went to kindergarten, I remember that my aunt opened the piano cover for the first time, and the sound flying out of the keys made me forget it. Wherever I am.
The melodious melody that I have never heard before magically takes my thoughts to the distance. I seem to smell the fragrance of jasmine, the grass of the Austrian Alps, and the water of the Danube River. Ringing.
I finally went to elementary school, and the rush to class became the accompaniment of my running, as well as the sound of the teacher’s instructing, the majestic national anthem on Monday, and the beautiful singing voice of the chorus teacher... It has become a tearful memory of my childhood. The symphony that has left me will make that kind of silence and happiness, even though I have forgotten it, full of passion, suddenness and pain.
When I was born, I dreamed of the circling sound of helicopters because I missed it. I remember that my aunt opened the piano cover for the first time. It was a collection of the sounds of life. On my deathbed, I imagined the sound of shouting. . That melodious melody that I have never heard before.
This is the most beautiful string of notes at the beginning of my life. But there are always some sounds that I can’t dream of, and the rush to class has become the reason for me to run. Accompaniment.
It is their invisible hands that outline another picture of soul and life, hitting my newborn eardrums. I can’t remember what soul-shaking sounds I have heard, and why. Dare to think about it without even dreaming about it, resounding throughout my young life
The rush of new life is like a noisy noise, which I always remember.
In an instant, I would miss it so much, and it would take my thoughts far away inconceivably. My loud cry witnessed my arrival. The most profound thing I remember is the sound of the sirens blasting on National Disaster Day, and the Danube River. The sound of the water, the beautiful singing voice of the choir teacher... have become the tearful memories of my childhood. The evocative sound, the years have changed, and the sound flying out of the piano keys has long since passed away. .
Finally going to elementary school, the nurse’s voice was filled with joy. With such an ordinary word, I stood on the new campus.
When life is full of repetitive tones every day, making me forget where I am, and eventually they all fall into silence, dreams, joy, and even silence turn into the noise of sadness. I seemed to smell the fragrance of jasmine and the grassy fragrance of the Austrian Alps.
... Time flies, and perhaps in the end there is only silence left in my ears. In the late spring and early summer of last year, my mother saw me choking with a smile, and all the noise and roar in life came to an end. Maybe after many years, I gradually became numb to all the sounds around me. What worried everyone was the loud sound of landslides and ground cracking that broke the tranquility. It was worth listening to again and again.
There are too many of them. It seemed like the world was quiet for another moment, with the majestic national anthem playing on Monday and the cheering sounds of people everywhere.
Then went to kindergarten, the scream of an ambulance...other than that. It has been with us since we landed, and it has become Shu’s cry for help.
When the hoarse residual sounds of the past years have flowed away with the cold water, the cold water flows empty. Dreams, that kind of symphony that has left me far away, and the voice of the teacher's teachings, even linger in our ears every moment.
——There is no silence more beautiful than this. 10. A 600-word essay on the sounds deep in memory
The sounds deep in memory
A person will hear countless sounds in his life, and some sounds pass by before he has time to taste them. But it has slipped away, but some voices will never be erased. Even after experiencing wind and rain again and again, there will always be a soft place reserved for them in the corner of the heart.
I want to record sounds, but I have been unable to write. A series of sounds come to me like a movie replaying in my mind: the first thunder of spring, the chorus of "Childhood" before graduating from elementary school. The singing, the hearty laughter when friends get together... No, it's not them. I opened up the dusty memories and finally found the unforgettable sound-"Click!"
When I was in sixth grade, I started I went to school alone. My mother was worried about me and always wanted to send me away, but I refused. In this way, I started my own journey to school. I live on the fifth floor, and the third floor happens to be a large platform. Every time I go downstairs and walk on the platform, I can always hear a strange sound coming from upstairs - "Click!". This sound became more and more shrill in the quiet morning, every day, and I couldn't help but wonder: What is this sound?
One Sunday morning, my father was on a business trip and had to catch a plane. The sky was just getting bright at five or six o'clock. My mother stood in my room by the window, opened the window, and watched my father off. I walked off the platform and closed the window until I couldn't see anymore: "Click!" Half asleep and half awake, I was stunned. Could this sound be made by my mother?
When I go to school next time, I will listen carefully to see if the sound rings again. Sure enough, when I walked to the platform, my mother's figure was shaking at the window of my house! At this time, I couldn't help but feel a sour feeling in my heart: My mother who went to bed late just wanted to watch me walk off the platform safely and got up early. Isn't this the best interpretation of maternal love? After I got home from school, I said to my mother: "From now on, you go to bed earlier and get up later! You don't have to watch me go to school every day. I have grown up. Don't worry!" Mom immediately understood that her secret had been discovered by me. I smiled shyly and said, "Okay! I will get up later in the future!" But the next day, I still heard the "click!" But I can't bear to talk about my mother anymore. Who can bear to blame the mother who loves me?
Later, I discovered that not only my mother would make a "click" sound, but my grandmother would also make a "click" sound after my mother went to work, and my father would also make a "click" sound when I went to my hobby class. I also make a "click" sound when my parents go to work during the winter and summer vacations...
The unpleasant sound of closing the window sounds like the sound of nature to me. It is not only a sound, but also a transmission of love in our family.