In daily study, work, and life, you often see prose, right? Prose is divided into narrative prose, lyrical prose and philosophical prose. What kind of prose have you seen? The following is a touch of nostalgia prose that I compiled for everyone. It is for reference only. I hope it can help everyone. That Touch of Nostalgia Prose Part 1
In June of midsummer, I faintly miss my distant hometown. Pour yourself a cup of tea quietly. The transparent glass is filled with green and naughty elves, flying freely in the small cup. A thin layer of water vapor rose up, slowly blurring my vision and covering my mind. Humans are highly sentimental animals that are easily nostalgic. Unknowingly, along the way, we suddenly realize that we have entered the ranks of middle age. We gently remember a period of time and put aside those youthful years in our lives. We are moved by how peaceful life is!
Quietly reading Teacher Yu Guangzhong’s Nostalgia, and gently listening to the high or low accents of the migrant workers downstairs, a kind of nostalgia is quietly filling my heart, with a touch of sadness. It is shallow but extremely powerful, attacking the hot-blooded but very soft heart hidden in the chest.
The time spent away from home and parents is getting longer and longer. Running around for life makes you numb until you hear the local accent and the warm and soft dialect, which is enough to make you burst into tears. It turns out that living is life. The biggest touching moment. At that moment, the hardships at work and the burdens in life were released in the warm local accent, like a father's warm hands caressing the tired heart, like a mother's warm embrace with a smile on a wanderer who has been wandering for a long time. . Nostalgia, in the sultry June, you are like the scorching sun high in the sky, burning on the sweaty backs of my dear fellow migrant workers, and making a chirp sound in my heart.
Standing in the ravine of time, I piously re-examine the years that have passed. The people born in the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s are all destined to be a generation wandering around, with different ideals and different goals but the same aspirations in all directions. Our parents worked hard to give birth to us, but when we grew up, we did not hesitate to let go. How many times do we remember our parents standing at the entrance of the village and looking around, just like the scene when we left home. But, can you see through your highly myopic glasses that your parents’ hair has grown on their temples? Just, do you feel that your parents' waist is no longer as straight as loose. The only thing that doesn't change is that you can still see you clearly in your parents' eyes that have gradually become cloudy.
Nostalgia! , you are the stuffed tofu made by my mother. When I am happy, I miss you, sweet and mellow in your mouth, fresh and crisp. Every time I come home, my mother will greet me with water from the ancient well, soybeans grown by herself, and stuffed tofu stuffed with stone mills. She has never been absent for more than ten years. Nostalgia, you are the bitter melon stuffed by my mother. When I am sad, I miss your deep love after the bitterness, the long sweetness after the shallow bitterness, and your face that still smiles clearly through tears. Nostalgia, you are the yellow-skinned fruit tree planted by my mother. Every midsummer, the season when the yellow-skinned fruit is fragrant, my mother will wait under the yellow-skinned fruit tree, counting the days, waiting for the last tree on the branch. When the fruit is ripe, it is time for us to enter our home.
Perhaps parents must be the most beautiful and warm scenery in the world. In this beautiful scenery, we need to color it ourselves, to embellish the best version of ourselves in life, to work hard and live a happy life. The warm smiles of our parents contain our past pain and encourage us to believe that the rainbow after the rain will be brighter and brighter.
Looking at the construction site of the new city from afar, my fellow migrant workers are still busy working tirelessly under the scorching sun and thunderstorms. Maybe they are striving for a better life, maybe they are trying to realize their children’s college dreams, maybe they are living in the city. Go to a new house and wander in this foreign land like me. May we all be well! I prayed quietly in my heart, withdrew my gaze, and typed on the keyboard quietly to the gentle Buddhist music. My study room was filled with a touch of nostalgia. That Touch of Nostalgia Prose Chapter 2
After reading the last sentence of "Thinking of Peking", my homesick heartstrings were gently plucked. The author's infinite attachment to Beijing is like my attachment to my hometown. Nostalgia arose around me.
I miss my relatives in my hometown. When I was very young, I lived with my grandparents. Because my parents were too busy and could not take good care of me, they let me stay in my hometown and live with my grandparents. Although they worked in the fields and were illiterate farmers, I I vaguely remember that they also taught me to grow, teach me to be grateful, and taught me to love. I haven't seen them for three years now, and they may have grown a lot of gray hair. As the days go by, while I grow up, they are growing old quietly. Thinking of this, my eyes couldn't help but moisten. I really miss my grandparents who are far away in my hometown.
I miss the longan tree in my hometown. It can be said that my childhood was spent in the company of the longan tree. There is a tall longan tree in the yard of my hometown, which was planted by my grandfather’s father. Before the harvest season, I can always eat longan that is big, round, full of flesh, sweet and delicious. After the peak season, people began to dry longan. In comparison, the dried longan that has lost its moisture is quite delicious, with a sweet taste that is unforgettable.
This tall longan tree is also a treasure place for enjoying the cool air in summer. Whenever the hot sun shines high on the earth, the neighbors always like to move benches to my house to enjoy the coolness under the longan tree. I will always accompany my grandma and listen to everyone chatting.
Okay, let’s not talk anymore. I’m going to cry. I really miss my hometown! That Touch of Nostalgia Prose Part 3
Year after year has passed, and I have been drifting away. I have not even sent a smile to my parents, and there has been no news from my parents. On New Year's Eve this year, I received a question from afar - my cousin who was doing well in Wenzhou and my cousin who made a lot of money in Nanjing both sent me a text message: "Brother (brother) ) Can you go home this year? I haven’t seen you for four years. It’s just the two of us celebrating the New Year at home. Without you, I feel a lot more deserted. I hope you can come home and see me, okay?”
The sound of firecrackers? I am one year old, and in three days, I will be one year older. But now I am a five-star general in the Army, and I am working on designing plasma. It will take about four or five years to escape from this cold design room. "Being a stranger in a foreign land, I miss my family even more during the festive season." To go, or not to go?
The tea leaves in my hometown release an intoxicating fragrance. With a cup of tea in hand, I look at the colorful clouds on the horizon and watch the setting sun sink into the distant valley little by little. Watching the bloody sunset fade to where the morning sun rises, watching the clear moonlight stir up waves in my heart. All of this ripples in my heart like ripples. However, even the slightest hint of tea fragrance became a luxury, and the taste slowly faded away on the tip of my tongue. In the memory of my childhood, it left traces of hazy afterimages...
The next day, my bitter tears of homesickness spilled onto my design table and seeped into my hometown. ... That Touch of Nostalgia Prose Chapter 4
"The spring breeze is green, and the south bank of the river is green. When will the bright moon look like me again?"
Nostalgia has troubled people since ancient times. In ancient times, civilian scholars studied hard for decades in the cold window before entering the official career and ranking first in the imperial examination. However, career is not always smooth sailing. Few people step into Qingyun, participate in government affairs, and move to their families to share family happiness with them. But more people have to work in official positions, unable to realize their ambitions and unable to reunite with their families. The helplessness in their hearts was mixed with homesickness, and they turned into homesickness. Bai Juyi, who wants to sit at home late at night, should also talk about people who travel far away and sigh because of homesickness; and Wang Wei reveals the deep homesickness, he "knows where my brother climbed high, but there is a person missing in the dogwood." ”.
Not only people in ancient times felt homesick, but they are still everywhere in China today. Because of the deep memory of hometown and the deep longing for family, China's unique "Spring Festival Craze" was born. This cyclical human migration, known as the largest in human history, is caused by deep nostalgia. People do not hesitate to squeeze into the crowds, take the noisy return train, and spend more than ten or even dozens of hours returning to their hometowns to reunite with their families who miss the night. Why can they do it? Is there any magic push? Perhaps, that kind of magic temporarily drives away the nostalgia that has been entangled for thousands of years.
What is nostalgia? Is it a stamp? Is it a ticket? Or a grave or a strait? Maybe, you can only understand but not be able to distinguish. That Touch of Nostalgia Prose Part 5
It’s August 15th again. In the sky, there is a full moon hanging, like a white jade plate, exuding silver brilliance. The silver brilliance spreads to the earth, like a white gauze, illuminating the whole world.
In this lively festival, a young man with fair features and yellow skin was sitting on a bench in the corner of the street, looking up at the sky, with a touch of sadness in his eyes and a frown on his face. It became the shape of "Chuan", and it was obvious that he was homesick.
Looking at the bright moon in the sky, pictures of his hometown appeared in his mind like a movie. Gradually, his eyes became blurred, and a drop of crystal tears slowly fell from his eyes. outflow.
There, the trees are lush; the grass is green; and in the river, the fish are playing happily in the water. The air there is fresh and there is no urban pollution at all; the trees there grow freely, unlike the trees in the city that grow neatly and constrainedly in rows. There is no hustle and bustle of the city, it is quiet and the birds are singing and the flowers are fragrant.
A gust of evening wind blew by, and he suddenly woke up. Everything about his hometown appeared so clearly in his mind, so unforgettable. The young man sighed softly. Although he lived in the city, He prefers the green mountains, green waters, green grass and flowers in his hometown.
The night is getting deeper, and the white moonlight stretches his figure very long... That Touch of Nostalgia Prose Chapter 6
The sky is the blue of my hometown, and the water is the sweetness of my hometown. The people are the goodness of my hometown; the mountains are the height of my hometown... But the bright moon in my hometown is the most unforgettable for me. It holds my heart tightly like a rope.
One summer night, I stood on the balcony and admired the moon as usual. The moon is really round today. I wonder if the moon in my hometown is the same. Mom must be leaning against the door now, waiting for her child to come back, but... can I still go back? I asked Chang'e on the moon: "When can I go back?" She didn't answer.
Moon, moon, please take me home!
I still remember that during the Mid-Autumn Festival when I was a child, our family ate moon cakes and admired the moon together. The moon that day was as round and bright as today. I looked at the moon and asked my father: "Why did Chang'e go to the sky?" He smiled and did not answer. "I know, she must be very cruel!" Then am I not as cruel as Chang'e now? Yes, I am now far away from my hometown and wandering abroad. How much I want to go home! Go home, such a warm word, but my heart is cold... As I thought about it, I shed two lines of hot tears.
The water of my hometown, the sky of my hometown, the people of my hometown, and the mountains of my hometown are all deeply imprinted in my heart. The moon always connects me with my hometown. "The moon is the brightness of my hometown" - it is full of my longing for my hometown. That Touch of Nostalgia Prose Chapter 7
"The spring breeze is green again on the south bank of the river. When will the bright moon shine back?"
Nostalgia has been around people since ancient times. In ancient times, civilian scholars studied hard for decades in Han Chuang, just to enter the official career in order to be named on the imperial examination gold list. But the official career is not all smooth sailing. A few people step into the political arena, participate in government affairs, and move in with their families to enjoy family happiness. However, more people only have one and a half-term official position, unable to realize their ambitions, and even more Being unable to reunite with my family, the helplessness in my heart mixed with the anguish of homesickness, and it became homesickness. There are things like Bai Juyi's thoughts and sighs due to homesickness, "I want to sit at home late at night, and talk about people who have traveled far away"; there are also things like Wang Wei's emotions expressed by "I know my brothers are climbing to the heights from afar, and there is one less person left planting dogwood trees". Deep homesickness.
Not only did people feel homesick in ancient times, but it still occurs all over China today. Because of the deep memories of my hometown and the deep longing for my family, the "Spring Festival Transport" that is unique to China has been born. This is known as the largest cyclical human migration in human history. The reason is all due to deep nostalgia! People do not hesitate to squeeze in the crowded crowds, take the noisy return train, and spend more than ten hours or even dozens of hours to return to their hometowns to reunite with their families who miss them day and night. Why can they do it? Is it driven by magic? Maybe, that magic temporarily drives away the nostalgia that has been lingering for thousands of years.
What is nostalgia? Is it a stamp? Is it a boat ticket? Or the grave or the strait? Perhaps, it can only be understood but cannot be expressed in words.