Essay on Missing Hometown 1 Hometown Are you OK? The water in my hometown; Are you okay? Grass in my hometown; Are you okay? Hometown; Are you okay? My dear hometown.
Remember that long mountain road? The winding mountain road, the laughter of childhood, are all collected by leaves in their own treasure chest, that box! This is the wealth of their life. Listen ... "Grandma, hurry up, there is a stream ahead" "OK, I'm almost there!" "Oh, take a bath, catch fish ..." Young children's voices shuttle through the forest, and shallow footprints seem to tell the story of yesterday ... hometown, how beautiful you are!
Remember that rusty trolley? That's childhood music, childhood poems ... "Cheep ..." The sound of wheels is like that old story, telling the joys and sorrows of childhood. "Grandma, I will push the cart. Look … "Good boy, you are great. Grandma will buy you delicious food when she comes home ... "Good memories are like a dream of reincarnation, which is gone forever.
When I was a child, I was drunk for a flower, cried for a leaf, regretted for a drop of water, and was excited for a pen. The beautiful past is also a drop of water, an inexhaustible pen. ...
I miss it very much because I have a beautiful hometown; I miss it very much because I have good memories; I miss it because I had a wonderful childhood; I am happy because I have a beautiful dream; I am happy because I have a beautiful cloud; I am very happy, because I miss you as clear as autumn water.
Flowers are in full bloom and green grass is everywhere. Tomorrow, tomorrow, will I still miss you? See you next time, my dearest hometown!
My hometown is Qinglongzui, Shunhe Town, Wuxue, Huanggang City, Hubei Province (original address: Qinglongzui, Xiaogan City, Macheng City, Hubei Province). I miss my hometown day and night, but I have never been there. It's just that when my father was in the Dabie Mountains Division of the Military Region, he went there and met people from his hometown.
My hometown is not as spectacular as the Forbidden City, the Temple of Heaven and the Great Wall of Wan Li, but there is a legend of the Red Cliff War in the Three Kingdoms. There is no ever-changing garden in Suzhou, no legend of Jade Dragon and Golden Phoenix in West Lake, but there is the eternal swan song of "One River never returns, a romantic figure through the ages"!
According to historical research, my family can be traced back to the Tang Dynasty, and it is a direct descendant of Li Zhi, the ninth son of Li Shimin of Emperor Taizong. When the Song Dynasty crossed the south, it coincided with the joint destruction of gold by Song and Meng, and the war was in full swing. The founder Well Lee, named "Eight Duke of Ji", is a general of a title of generals in ancient times in Song Ying. He set out from Nanchang to Macheng, Hubei Province, which is now Huanggang City, and camped in Lijiaba at the southern foot of Dabie Mountain, where he settled down and took root.
I have dreamed of going back to my hometown countless times. In my dream, I warmly embraced my hometown and tasted the beautiful mountains and rivers of my hometown with the passionate feelings of wanderers. Now, my persistent dream has turned lingering homesickness into a part of life planning in the cycle of seasons.
When I mention my hometown, my blood boils and wonderful telepathy arises. She comes from my inner yearning for my hometown; Thinking of my hometown, I seem to vaguely hear the long-awaited call of my hometown. When I am happy, I will be personable, distinguished and broad-minded in front of me; When I am sad, the quiet beauty of the fallen leaves in my hometown will emerge in my mind, reminding me of the feeling of falling leaves returning to their roots.
Miss hometown, do not need an unforgettable oath, miss hometown, do not need the promise of vows of eternal love; My hometown is my unfettered paradise, and my thought wave flies freely in the beautiful paradise like a flying swan.
Missing my hometown is a kind of hazy melancholy. I always miss my hometown on a moonlit night, listening to the flute from my hometown Qingyuan, and quietly feeling the call of my distant relatives. Pavilions and pavilions in my hometown, such as a mirage, always haunt my eyes; The appearance of my hometown has formed an irreplaceable complex in my heart and precipitated into lingering homesickness.
Miss the path paved with bluestone in my hometown, miss the smoke rising in my hometown, and miss the friendly and simple local accent of my hometown; The feeling of missing my hometown is the fragrance of flowers, the faint sadness, the sleepless night and the deep nostalgia.
I like the continuous mountains in my hometown, the continuous drizzle in my hometown, the vast and green bamboo sea in my hometown, and I prefer my hometown "Where is the restaurant?" The shepherd boy pointed to Xinghua Village. "Beautiful poem.
My hometown is beautiful. I miss my hometown. I am no longer in the mood to appreciate the gentleness of Purple Mountain and the romance of Xizi Lake. How generous and cordial my hometown is. Even the majestic Mount Everest, the spectacular Potala Palace and the luxury of Victoria Harbour add up, which can't compare with my hometown's affection.
My hometown is connected with my blood. My hometown is my childhood memory and colorful dream. I am an ordinary seed planted by my hometown in the sacred land. I have grown into a vibrant student, wandering around the world. Now the leaves have returned to their roots, what can I give you? My lovely hometown.
I would like to turn into a ferry, swaying in my hometown, the rippling red East Lake; I would like to become a changeable white cloud; Freedom is ethereal in the blue sky of my hometown; I would like to be an infatuated farmer, plowing land in my vast hometown.
Hometown! My hometown is haunted by dreams. When a busy day returns to the quiet of the moonlit night, I always miss my hometown deeply, and return to my long-lost hometown with the crisp and familiar frogs, as if I had returned to the ancient appearance of 800 years ago. At this time, I just want to shout loudly in the valley of the echo wall in my hometown dialect: "hometown!" " I'm back! Mom! I'm back-"
Finally, don't wander around, never wander in the world again. At the moment, I don't want to be a wanderer. I just want to become a welcoming pine, standing on the picturesque Dongpo Red Cliff, quietly guarding my hometown that I miss day and night!
Prose describing homesickness 3 hometown is a song, the more you sing, the more mellow it becomes; Hometown is a poem. The more comfortable you sing, the more you miss it.
My hometown has always been an unforgettable place for me, where I have fond memories of my childhood. My hometown is full of grandma's smile, grandpa's expectation and naughty childhood friends.
My hometown has long mountains and thousands of miles of fields. My hometown is vast, flat and poetic.
I have lived in the countryside since I was a child, and I have a deep and lingering memory of the countryside. This memory will not disappear with the passage of time, but will become stronger, clearer and more affectionate.
Curved rivers, quiet villages, vast blue sky, long white clouds, gurgling streams and narrow bridges constitute the poetic outline of my hometown.
In September, the sky is slightly cool. Sunshine adds luster to the sunset glow, and white clouds sing for the breeze. There are always several children picking up ears of rice in the field. Picking up ears of rice is as exciting and joyful as picking up childhood wishes. One of these children is me.
At dusk, the country road is covered with fine sunlight. Straw covered with soft golden silk shirts is waiting in the silent countryside, frogs are singing and insects are singing in the fields. There are also cattle and sheep waiting to go home on the grass.
The light blue smoke from the kitchen chimney floats in the dusk village in western Sichuan. There must be delicious country dishes in the hut. The blue smoke rising slowly from the roof is a poetic symbol to urge people who work in the fields to go home.
My childhood has left countless marks here.
When I was a child, my hometown and village were like a fairy tale book that I could never finish reading. I can find my own happiness and happiness in this book every day!
Grandpa often sits under the big banyan tree in his hometown yard and plays the erhu intoxicated. The melody is melodious and ups and downs, and then it attracts many folks to enjoy it. These notes were crushed and exiled in the evening breeze. Then it floats on the long dusk path.
At that time, there were always a group of small figures on the ridge, by the river and by the old trees. This village is very lively, full and cordial.
Later, the young people in the village, carrying heavy ideals and future bags, hurried along the muddy road in the country, leaving only deep footprints filled with exclamation marks.
They all flock to the noisy city, hoping to lay a world of their own in the bustling metropolis.
From then on, my hometown is not lively, and I am alone. The wanderer who left his hometown, with the hope and kindness of his hometown, embarked on another different life journey.
Every time I go back to my hometown, I find that my hometown is a little older, and I can clearly read some vicissitudes from the images of the village. Walking on the high ridge, there are no children picking up ears of rice, no bursts of laughter by the big trees, and no melodious voice of grandpa playing erhu under the banyan tree.
On that day, the geese in the sky were whispering again, and they all returned to their hometown. But where were the wanderers and those kids outside? Are you still thinking about this pitifully silent village?
Hometown will always make people dream, and the roots and leaves are connected! How many nights can I see your kind face, old body and lonely hope from my dream?
I don't know what I saw in Essay 4 about missing my hometown, so I suddenly feel homesick. I remembered the song "Home is in the Northeast" sung by Pang Long. Think of patches of soybean sorghum, think of glistening snow piled up on endless black land, think of happy suona people dancing with gongs and drums! How can I be fascinated by the speeding clouds? Think of those grinning children who will never finish eating frozen pears and still need frozen persimmons. Think of people who like Huimian Noodles with sauerkraut and pork. In fact, what they want most is bean paste buns. Our quack tree is so green in spring that people can't help whistling. The summer wind makes sunflowers and corn cobs cough with laughter. The golden wheat waves in autumn make people want to roll on them. Squatting in waist-deep snow in winter can play hide-and-seek Where we are breathing potatoes and talking about corn, how many rich people don't buy prosperous villages, because that's where we feed.
The Spring Festival is coming soon, and the cold outside is not enough to make people feel uncomfortable. The sunshine in early spring is like a gift for children. Only at this time, snow is most suitable for snowball fights. It's sticky when you grab it, and it becomes a snowball when you hold it in your hand. It flies out like a shiny arc to spread the air, and it will spread out when it hits your face, leaving only a wet snow print. People there like to express everything with snow, and the simple snow connection in every fenced yard brings endless fun. They sang and danced, shouted comfort and danced with joy. Snow is God's cleanest gift to black land. They like to use snow to ensure harvest, tomorrow and the future.
I have a persistent hobby for food, and I like green. As long as there are vegetables on the table, I can eat more rice, even green porridge or green rice. I can eat one or two bowls without vegetables.
My husband has never understood my stubbornness, and even I don't understand why I like green food so much.
Anyone who has eaten the collective canteen should have had this experience: when you go to the canteen to cook in a large pot, you will have no appetite at all, and often there are more leftovers than you eat.
It was a noon in early spring, and I got a bean in the company canteen. This is not the season to grow beans. I think the price of beans should not be cheap. It's strange that there are such dishes in the canteen today. The color of the dish looks particularly bright green, which actually aroused my appetite. It tastes crisp and uncooked in my mouth, but I like the unique astringency of green vegetables and feel the breath of spring.
Eating and eating, I actually ate the familiar warm taste.
My hometown is a small town surrounded by green mountains and green waters. I saw the most bamboos when I was a child. I can't tell the big one and the small one. They can be found on the mountain, by the water, and anywhere in front of the house. The water I eat is natural landscape or river water, and the underwater current is also the shadow of green hills and bamboo trees, which looks dry and bright.
My grandparents have always lived in such a beautiful town.
My parents are farmers, and I have four siblings. When we were young, we often worried about tuition. The dishes at home are all grown in our own fields, almost all of which are green. Vegetables, beans and green peppers are the most common, and they are eaten almost in three seasons of the year. At that time, cooking oil was also produced by ourselves. Our family keeps some pigs every year. Besides paying the tuition, we fry the rest of the meat ourselves.
I think I've always hidden this smell in my heart, and I've always been unconsciously partial to this color and this smell.
That's the color and taste of my hometown. It looks delicious, and it warms my heart when I think of it. That pure green has been printed in my mind and can't be erased.
Therefore, thoughts of missing hometown and relatives flow back and forth in my heart, as if at noon in this early spring, and as if in an unknown horizon.
Although I have my own home after marriage, I always think about the home with a juvenile dream; As a result, the feeling of home in my heart becomes near and far.
The hustle and bustle of the city, the hurried pace, surrounded my heart in the intense work all day. Today, I suddenly remembered the distant town far away from the hubbub, and my parents' expectations and expectations were faintly visible in the sunshine.
Miss the smoky black wall at home and read under the oil lamp on the wooden table at night; Think of the straw-flavored smoke floating from the kitchen in the village; Homesick at the gate of the river, which is as bright as the moon and full of all my joys; I want to see the tea mountain full of green and laughter.
I always dream when I go home, and wake up in a foreign land. At this time, my heart suddenly became as transparent and fragile as a cicada. At this time, all the knots were intertwined like a net, and the more tightly they were entangled, the more painful they became.
Home is the root of the heart, and no one can uproot himself from life.
Walking in a hurry, busy with business, I often leave my home somewhere in my heart. But the years are still the same, the time is still the same, and homesickness is always repeated inadvertently, forming an indelible sadness. A slightly sad, distant and beautiful sadness. This sadness has formed a landscape in my heart with the years. The longer the years, the more beautiful the scenery. The deeper the sadness, the more touching the scenery.
Therefore, when I get married in a different place, I imagine myself as a leaf in the landscape and always dream of returning to the branches in the coming year.
However, how long is the way home?
Just frown but go straight to my heart.