Yes, my composition on the Growth Bridge, 500 words.

Motherly love is a bridge for me to grow up. Once upon a time, I was sleeping and lying in my mother's warm arms. A long time ago, I fell ill and fell asleep in my mother's anxious eyes ... Many years have passed, and with these "former times", I walked on the road paved by my mother with love. I was five years old. There is no polite form in the composition. On an ordinary day and a calm night, I have a high fever. It's past midnight for my mother's bloodshot eyes and hot face still dripping with sweat. Pots of hot and cold water and strips of wet and dry towels didn't improve, so my mother picked me up and ran to the hospital. The hospital was quiet. Only my mother ran behind my back in the whole building. My mother kept knocking at the door-that year, I was ten years old: I accidentally fell downstairs after class, and my feet swelled like air in an instant. For the next two weeks, my mother drove me to and from school every day, regardless of her hard work, supporting my growing body with her thin back. I walked step by step and saw the thin sweat on my mother's forehead. I know that every drop of water is a witness of love. This year, I am thirteen years old: my homework is getting busier and busier. Because I have a lot of homework, I often stay up late at night. My mother will stay with me. Even if I am angry, she won't go to bed until I fall asleep. I seem to have had a sweet dream under my mother's nose. Mother's love accompanied me to grow up, and it was a bridge on my growing road, built on the river of my heart.