In life, everyone will inevitably come into contact with writing notes. In the narrative process, writing notes should describe the appearance, language, movements and psychological activities of the characters, which can best express their thoughts, feelings and personality characteristics. The following is a complete collection of essays I have carefully arranged for you, hoping to help you.
1 Open the window, and the north wind blows, knocking on the branches and making a "squeaking" sound. The leaves began to sway slowly with the cold north wind. The trunk gently twisted its "waist", like a graceful girl dancing in the wind, which was very conspicuous and charming. But my mother's deep affection makes me feel deep love and warmth.
One morning on the weekend, I was awakened early by the sound of washing milk. Sleepy, I heard my mother quietly push open my door and open the curtains. Still dreaming, I walked out with graceful steps and closed the door. After a while, I got up and walked into the living room. There is a strong smell of milk. Seeing that my mother is still busy in the kitchen, I can't help feeling deeply. Mom, you have worked hard. Mom's taste is so simple.
After washing in a hurry, I looked at my watch and found that it was time for the training class soon. I picked up my bag and opened the door to leave, but my mother gave me a good scolding. Standing at the door and waiting for a while, my mother handed me a steaming glass of milk, and then assumed a posture of ordering me to drink it before leaving. I immediately flinched until I came to my senses and began to spoil my mother, begging me to go to class first, and then the milk came back. So I quickly rushed down the stairs. Because of the cold weather, my little hands are red and the whole person is shaking. Suddenly, I heard the urgent cry of "Lian" behind me. I couldn't help looking back and saw my mother carrying that glass of milk, acting like a fly. At that time, my tears were already spinning in my eyes, but I tried to hold back my tears. I picked up the glass of milk and my hands were much warmer. My mother kept rubbing my hands. After drinking milk, my body seems to be full of a warm current, a warmth and a happiness. My mother puts on gloves and scarves for me. In a flash, I saw my mother's hands covered with wrinkles, not as delicate and soft as before. There was a trace of silver hair on my head, wrinkles climbed up my mother's forehead and my mother's eyes were moist. I suddenly realized that my mother had done a lot for me, but I didn't cherish it easily. Mother's taste is so affectionate, so gentle as water. We should grasp it well.
Yes, maybe just as a casual gesture, it is enough to express how much my mother has paid for me. Cherish it. Try to bring my mother a glass of water, a pair of shoes and a magazine ... the north wind is still blowing.
What kind of hand is that? Dry time squeezes into the skin, outlining aging wrinkles, ferocious blood vessels heavier than bronze, thick knuckles and rough cocoons. Faced with such a hand, I dare not reach out.
The real distance, a long time, seems to really make relatives talk thin. When I think of my grandparents' spoil when I was a child, I still can't feel it deeply, just like watching others, remembering the taste, but I can't understand it. Suddenly, a sense of powerlessness arises.
I stood beside my father, rolled up my sleeves, bowed my head, clever and alienated. The ears echoed with the praise of the aunts. The accent of my hometown is unfamiliar to me. Grandpa stood by, hiding something in his muddy eyes. It's deep and heavy, which makes me a little breathless. This is the first time we met, and I didn't even say anything simple. I reached out and gave me a hug.
Hello again, I don't know which festival it is. My father pressed my shoulder, and I respectfully said hello to my grandfather. The old man's body trembled a little. He reached out and rubbed my short hair. I didn't dare to look up, mumbled a few words, turned and ran out to play. When I was leaving, I paused and held out my hand and waved it outside the window a few times. When I saw my grandfather's eyes standing at the door, it seemed that tears appeared. I choked, and a little bitterness spread in my chest.
It was the Dragon Boat Festival again, and I followed my parents back to the countryside. The hall is full of relatives and friends. I walked in with my bag on my back, and my father put the gift he bought aside. I waved my hand and said hello to grandpa. It is worrying that the old man is limping. I rushed to meet him and reached out to help the old man, but he was very excited to hold my hand, and my rough big hand sharpened my hand. Those hands lack heat and strength. But it is very detailed, as if to find out every grain in my hand.
The old man fumbled for something in his pocket, took out a red envelope, stuffed it into my arms and kept saying, it's good to be back, it's good to be back. I looked up and looked at the old man hunched and hunched in front of me. My heart was sour and I didn't miss the joy that flashed in those muddy yellow eyes.
There is always separation. I sat in the car, the door was ajar, and the old man stood beside me, silent for a long time. The old man touched my head and said, "study hard." I was stunned again, and I didn't know what to say. I should know loudly and think of something and say happy holidays in the old man's ear. Reach out and hug the old man.
The car is driving forward, passing the pine forest, but you can vaguely see the dim light, which seems to be warm enough to reach.
Time flies, I still remember the lights at the intersection and the people under them. -inscription
Time is not as good as before, and our lives are gradually changing. The child who used to be a teenager has become today. The only thing that hasn't changed is the touch that never left, the person who waited for me on the way home.
At that time, I was only 65,438+00 years old, and my father didn't have time to drive me to school because of his busy work, so I went to school alone. At that time, there was always someone waiting for me on that road, waiting for my love and touch, and that was my mother. Young, wearing a beautiful white skirt, standing at the intersection waiting to go home with her children, I remember that my mother was very beautiful at that time, and the mother waiting for me to go home was so beautiful. She always comes to hold me in her arms and looks at me with gentle eyes.
When I was no longer a child, I moved to a new home and entered the junior high school. When I entered adolescence, I always quarreled with my mother, but what remained unchanged was a little touched, because the person who waited for me never left, and I loved her. She always looked around on her way home until I appeared and she smiled. My mother used to wear purple skirts, but she quietly climbed up several traces of time on her face. However, the mother under the street lamp is still so beautiful, and her heart is still full of small touches.
Time flies. I have become a high school student. I go out early and come back late every day. I look at the stars more often than my mother, but who hasn't changed is waiting for me on my way home. On the first day of school, I saw my mother's figure, and my heart suddenly twitched. My mother was very tall, and the light sprinkled on her head, lengthening her shadow. Her hair fluttered gently in the breeze, but I also saw traces of that time on her forehead. Although it is not obvious, it also hurts my heart deeply. I am not the child I used to be. My heart is more moved than love. That day, my mother was wearing a black skirt, which shook from time to time. She was relieved to see me under the street lamp. Mom's age is also growing with time, and the original "not old time" is just an illusion. However, the person waiting for me is still so beautiful, and the mother under the street lamp is still so beautiful. I love her.
Never. Time passed quietly, and we couldn't even see its tail. Mother is getting old, and time wags its tail and frolics away from us. Although I am growing up, I still remember the person waiting for me, the mother under the street lamp, the love under the light, and the only constant touch in the wind, which will make me more concerned and moved on my way home. I love her.
Mr. Lincoln once said, "Friends enrich life." So friendship is like a lamp, illuminating your heart; Friendship is like a flower, which perfuses our hearts.
One of the super girls: Wu, a girl with glasses.
Yang Yang is my team leader. She is usually quiet and has good grades, but she is nearsighted. Her left eye is 200 degrees and her right eye is 250 degrees. The glasses on her nose made her miserable. At lunch, the hot air splashed on her frame, making her unable to see anything clearly. How painful! In physical education class, no matter what exercise she does, she must "escort" her glasses, otherwise she will fall to the ground carelessly.
Super Girl 2: Tears.
Jiajia is a crying girl. Cry when something goes wrong: cry when you don't do well in the exam, cry when you are said a few words, and cry when you wrestle ... When she cries, we students have no choice but to say, "Can you stop crying? The teacher will say it when he knows it. " I didn't expect this move to be really clever, and "Lin Daiyu" suddenly turned grief into joy.
The third super girl: flogging Shen
Feifei is a brave girl. While speaking, he suddenly stood up from his seat and gave those "little prick" a good rectification. She often plays a trump card-a braid is spinning. Look, Cong Cong wants to challenge the Braid King, so he makes a face at her. Congcong is finished now! "Look at the trick!" Feifei attacked him straight, and suddenly she disappeared, making her classmates obedient.
Super Girl 4: Sparrows chirp.
I am a very talkative girl. As soon as I entered the classroom in the morning, I could hear her loud voice: "This dress is really beautiful. Where did you buy it? " "Yesterday's homework difficult? I think it is very simple! " Lend me your new book, will you? ..... She's so annoying, who can stand it! I wish I had a piece of tape in my hand to seal her mouth tightly.
Friendship is like a book, which contains a lot of knowledge; Friendship is like a touch of oil paint, depicting a beautiful scenery.
The cold wind is blowing my hair unscrupulously, and my hair is flying freely in the air, just like my heart at the moment. In many sleepless nights, I will think of you, your stiff face and your threatening eyes. When my sister and I were young, what a gentle father you were! When you talk to us, you always have some kind and peaceful smiles on your face. At that time, it was always so easy to be with you. Now everything has changed. You are no longer the father I knew when I was young. You become lazy and selfish. The most important thing is that you have got into the bad habit of gambling.
You have squandered the money you and your mother have earned over the years, and even become heavily in debt. I hated you from the day you started gambling. I am your daughter, and I really hate you. This is ridiculous. How many times have I told you, "Don't gamble", but you always ignore it. Do you know that when you turned around, your daughter behind you was in tears and wrote you letters several times? After listening to my sister, you always read the letter affectionately, but after reading the letter, you continued to gamble and turned a deaf ear to what we said. When you won the money, it was ridiculous and heartbreaking to see you grinning. When you and your mother came to see me the other day, I cried when I saw your dark face. When I go out in front of everyone, people always point at me, but I don't care. I want to cry when I see your face. Do you know how sad I was those days? During that time, all my friends didn't like me. I am a nobody at school, and my academic performance is not good enough. For me with strong self-esteem, I feel extremely uncomfortable to see your thin and black face and your dirty and old clothes because of the financial embarrassment of playing mahjong.
I feel that life is hopeless and colorless. That night, my friend stabbed me unintentionally. I had nightmares for several nights, probably because I was worried about the day and had a dream at night. You will always appear in my dream. In my dream, your identity will always be the eternal "gambling god". Seeing you export a lot of money, I cried several times. After waking up from a nightmare, there are still tears in the corner of my eyes. Maybe money is not important. The important thing is that I am lonely, and I hope to get the same fatherly love as when I was a child. When chatting with friends, friends always tell me how their father is. At this time, I can only be a heartbroken bystander. Although my mother loves me deeply, I still hope to get your love again.
Having said that, I feel much better. The breeze caressed my face, fresh and natural, pleasant ... Dad, promise me not to gamble again. When the dream is round and the sunset is infinite, it is buried by the coming night. After dusk, it is night, the earth sleeps, the birds perch, and my heart is broken. Maybe as time goes on, I will understand everything. ...