When I was very young, my mother often gave me a bath, and I was always happy, because at that time, my mother's white and smooth hands brushed my skin gently, which was very comfortable. After taking a shower, I always habitually hold my mother's hand, which is white, tender and soft, like soft toffee. From then on, I had a good impression on my mother's hand. Every time before going to school, my mother touched my little face with her hand and said, "You must listen carefully in class, okay?" I looked at her hand, made a face and went to school. My mother's hand has become a beautiful landscape in my heart, and I have always loved it.
When I grow up, the naive little girl has become a mature and steady me, and I no longer spoil my mother. Although I don't often look at my mother's hand carefully, that wonderful memory will always live in my heart.
One stormy night, the cold wind whistling outside the window, I was immersed in a beautiful dream. Suddenly, a light footsteps woke me up and got closer and closer to me. I think it must be my mother. She often comes to help me find the quilt at night. Sure enough, the quilt moved and covered my cold feet. My mother is still tucking the quilt on my shoulder in the factory. Suddenly, it was unusually warm and my heart was full of gratitude to my mother. Ouch! How painful! A hand slid across my forehead and gently pulled open my imminent hair. How come? Is it mom's hand? I remember my mother's hands were not like this, right? I can't breathe with all the question marks in my head. So I carefully opened one eye slightly, ah! The hand in the blur is full of traces, black and black. It must have been made when cutting red summer vines. I tried to open it again. I saw it! I saw it! This is obviously the mother's hand. The scar on the hand is as uneven as a wave in the wind. A few fingers are like bare trunks, lacking vitality and softness. Generally speaking, it is no different from a yellow leaf. Suddenly my nose is sour and I feel very uncomfortable. Is this the beautiful scenery in my mind? No, no, I don't want this. I tried to stop my mother, but she left. I opened my eyes, tears wet my eyelashes, and looked at my mother's distant back. She limped along, beating her waist with both hands. At this time, how I want to go over and give her a massage to smooth her uneven hands, those dark and round hands, those hands like dead Garcinia leaves, those hands. ...
It is because of these ordinary hands that I have safely and comfortably passed through 14 spring, summer, autumn and winter, pointing out the right direction for my life path and giving me my own pursuit goal. Thank you for your mother's hands and the beautiful scenery in my heart.
Mom, I will definitely return your beautiful hand when I grow up!
My mother is old. Only from her frosty hair and the face carved into the ditch by the sharp knife of the years, I read that my mother was really drained of oil and water and gradually became old.
Every morning, after washing, a delicious hot breakfast has been presented on the table before serving. Day after day, year after year, a dozen spring, summer, autumn and winter. It was still dark in the morning of late autumn and early winter. I always beg my mother to walk me out of this dark alley many times at home, but she still insists that I go by myself. Just like when I was a child, I fell down. No matter how loudly I cried and roared, she still insisted that I get up by myself. She will give me a sweet smile when I get up. As a child, I was also very satisfied. But at this time, listening to the roar of the wind, there is an unspeakable fear in my heart. I ran out of the alley with all my strength. When I turned and smiled, I clearly saw a thin figure across the alley.
As I grow older, I become braver. I advised my mother not to send it again, but she was still worried. Hey! Now I know how to recall the deep feelings in my heart. The scene of my mother watching me go to school in the cold weather has been frozen, like an old camera, "humming" a stream of white smoke and taking a beautiful photo.
My mother is very hardworking. Once, I went back to my grandmother's house with her. Unfortunately, it is raining. In order to prevent cabbage from getting wet, mother needs to carry hundreds of cabbages that have just been brought back from the field into the house one by one. Mother asked me and grandma to go to bed first. She was busy from 9 o'clock until late at night. I wonder how grandma felt at that time. She must be very upset.
My mother gave everything for me, but she didn't ask me for anything. I read my mother enthusiastically, and maybe I will understand it in another twenty or thirty years.
Father is a classical writer in China.
Mother is a beautiful essay, elegant and moving; Father is a classical Chinese, which is difficult to read. It needs to be understood word by word to discover his beauty and love.
Now I am a junior high school student, and I need to study at night. Sometimes I go out to do something with my classmates and stay busy until 9 o'clock. Even so, my father sat at the dinner table reading the newspaper, waiting for me to have dinner with him.
Sometimes I do my homework late, but he insists on staying with me until late at night. He always tells some beautiful stories to relax my nerves and doesn't forget to fill my cup with water.
"Dad, you are sleepy, go to sleep first."
"No, I'm reading this newspaper."
"Don't look, go to sleep."
"This newspaper is quite interesting."
"What newspaper ..."
In an instant, the air froze and all the scenes were stuck. I was so moved that I couldn't breathe-my father was "reading" a newspaper with relish, but the car wheels in that newspaper were in the air.
My father and I are getting closer and closer, and I gradually understand his classical Chinese. Heart-to-heart communication often makes me regard my father as my best friend. My father wanted me to take everything from him, and he gave it willingly.
My father talks about true love superficially, but I try to read it. Father's classical Chinese is difficult to read and understand, and I will read it with unremitting heart.
poetic sentiment
Edgar Allan Poe
Goethe
Although I haven't said hello to you for a long time,
I didn't write to you, but don't let your heart
Doubt, as if your son should.
My deep love for you comes from my chest.
Disappear. Nothing like that stone,
Always rooted in the bottom of the water,
It will never leave its position, even if it is running water.
Sometimes with wind and waves, sometimes with soft waves through it.
It flows by, so people can't see it,
My love for you is so inseparable.
In my chest, despite the long river of life,
Sometimes I am hit by pain and roll violently.
Sometimes quietly caressed by happiness,
Coverage and blockade make it impossible.
You can't reflect around the sun.
The returning sunshine is in front of your loving mother.
Let you know how much your son respects you.
A famous motto
1. It is at our mother's knee that we get our noblest, most sincere and most ambitious ideals, but there is seldom any money in them. -(America) Mark Twain
2. Factionalism is not only manifested in fields and sweaty factories, but also in families, dinner tables, relatives and relationships. -(former Soviet Union) Mayakovski
The ugly sea monster is not as terrible as the ungrateful child. -(British) Shakespeare
Kindness and beating begin at home. -Beaumont and Fletcher
5, charity and close relatives, but should not stop there. Fuller
As a person, you should respect your parents, be kind to your children, be generous to your poor relatives, and be polite to everyone. Bertrand Russell
For children, the value of parents' kindness lies in that it is more reliable and trustworthy than any other emotion. Bertrand Russell
The foundation of family is undoubtedly that parents have special feelings for their newborn daughter. Bertrand Russell
9. What is more sacred than the feelings contained in parents' hearts? Parents' hearts are the kindest judges, the closest friends and the sun of love. Its flame shines and warms the heart condensed in our hearts! Marx
10. A wise son makes his father happy, but a foolish son shames his mother. -Solomon