Recall my father's composition 1
The wind chimes in front of the window rang and tinkled, and the wind blew away with the years. And I thought of my father again. Sugar-coated hawthorns sprouted tender buds, soft and a little sweet in the air. I can't walk any further, so I pouted, squatted down with my hands open, and let my father hug me gently. He walked quickly to the front booth and said, "Boss, have one." Soon, the yellow bamboo stick was strung with red and bright hawthorn, and then poured with boiled rock sugar water.
My father looked at me with this red sugar-coated gourd. He squatted down and smiled. My tongue was awakened by taste buds. Finally, I couldn't resist the temptation. I hurried forward and threw myself into my father's arms with a smile. I ate candied haws when I was five years old. On the way to class, on the morning of the weekend, on the way to rush about, the wide road. Leaves blocked part of the sun, shooting on the ground, mottled, sprinkled on the face, warm. The electric car flew, and I'm going to be late for class. Although it was a sunny April day, my father turned to me and asked, "Is it cold?" I was flustered and casually said, "It's not cold."
Downstairs, I got off the bus and looked back at my father. A few strands of white hair have climbed up the sideburns, and crow's feet are covered next to the eyes, which are the wrinkles and vicissitudes of the years. Deep eyes are full of maturity and efforts of adults. I was nine years old when I looked back in the April sunshine. The silence in the middle of the night was filled with smoke, and my father broke my heart. The air was filled with silence, and the light rain brought the fragrance of dew, but the window was not closed. I was lying in bed, separated by a wall, and seemed to hear my father's heartbeat. The biting cold made my tearful face more painful. The rain stopped, the bright moon was contained in the window frame, and the small wind chime made by my father at the window gave off purple light.
A puzzling crystal flowed out of the eye socket. As soon as the wind blows, the bell rings and it is late at night.
The bell recorded my good memories with my father and countless silent late nights, but I still loved the first person who loved me. He is great and determined. He is the goal of my life.
Recalling my father's composition II
His blood is flowing in my weak body, my tears are his cries, and my smile is his happiness. Although he is not with me, he is in my heart, and his love for me has become my best memory.
I remember my father's hair was messy. He always liked to comb the middle part. He is very big. I remember that my father rarely worked in the fields and did not have a serious job. He always likes to be idle at home. However, I know he is not lazy, but afraid that he will never see me again if he goes out and has a job. I remember when I was a child, my father loved me very much. He often drives me on his bike and goes shopping to buy me delicious food. I am naturally happy to see delicious food. From time to time, I will jump into my father's arms and hold my father with two small hands. At this time, my father will touch my head and a smile will float around my mouth.
I remember when I was a child, my father loved to teach me to write, probably because he wrote a good hand and wanted to pass this advantage on to me! He often holds my hand and teaches me to write one by one. Whenever I make a mistake, my father will frown and say with a little pity, "Silly girl, I was wrong!" " At this time, I will look at him in surprise and suddenly find some wrinkles on my father's forehead, but I don't understand the helplessness and vicissitudes, just some doubts ... I remember when I was a child, my father sometimes came home late because of something, so I lived in my grandmother's house.
Every time my father comes back, it is already late at night. At that time, my father would always go to the bed and touch me when I was sleeping. And I often wake up with my father and then cry. At this time, my father will touch my little face, dry the tears on my face, put me in my pocket and say, "Good girl, don't cry, don't cry!" " "At this time, I will feel that my father's arms are so warm and warm, just like a warm current flowing into my body, so I won't cry.
Although my father can't give me complete love, every drop of love he gave me before will become my most precious and beautiful memory!
Recall my father's composition 3
The past is like sand in your hand. Whether you hold it tightly or not, it will slip from your hand bit by bit.
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I seem to remember it very late. When I have a little memory, my father has gone to Gaogang to work and only comes back once a week. Mom said that I was a lively guy at that time, and I was timid at the sight of my father. I am ashamed to say that my first impression of my father before I was ten years old was because he bought me a pure chocolate cake on my eighth birthday. Dark chocolate syrup and white chocolate syrup are layered, with wavy piping and exquisite chocolate graphics. I think this should be the best cake I have ever eaten in my life. Later, my father went to Taizhou to work.
A year later, my mother and I also came to Taizhou. The image of the father gradually became clear. When I was in primary school in Taizhou, I felt very uncomfortable, sitting on the cusp like a seasick person. In my previous school, my grasp of English was very loose; What I never dreamed was that I used to be excellent in English exams, but I passed the first time. I feel sorry for myself. My grades have always been good, though not the best.
Besides, I'm usually very good. My father and mother never want to scold me, but say a few words at most. My father is an editor and has a good eloquence. But this time he didn't say anything when he saw my poor grades. He just said calmly, "You just work hard." I still remember that it was an afternoon, and the strong sunshine stung my surprised face, which was painful. Soon, my English scores were among the best again. My father has a good sense of humor and seems to like to make fun of my study. So I think I can only fight back if I keep learning, so I have achieved little again and again.
Sometimes, some things are really gone forever. Memory is just a fragile safe. Sometimes I don't trust to put something in, so I write these on the manuscript paper.
The above is the writing idea and model essay about recalling my father's composition. You can write according to your real feelings, and I'm sure you can write a good article of your own ~