The poet said, "Everything is instantaneous, and everything will pass. And those that have passed will become cordial memories. "

That year, I realized the taste of leaving home!

"I really want to go home!" -this is a sentence that my sister who goes to college in other places often says on the phone. I can't understand if I haven't been out of the house. However, later, I gradually understood. ...

I remember at that time, I first came here to study. Mom still can't worry about this little girl who is not sensible. It was not until she made the new bed and told her what to pay attention to again and again that she decided to take a ride home. When I was about to leave, my mother hesitated, then turned around resolutely ... that trembling figure was deeply imprinted in my mind. And I quickly turned around, afraid to see that figure fade away. Because something inexplicable is surging, because I don't like to cry, I know that tears are salty. ...

Those nights, I always dreamed of rain. Rain drops on the iron railing of the balcony at home, and my heart is low.

I still remember that it was the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the moon in the sky was particularly round. I am holding a calling card in this unfamiliar campus, anxiously looking for an unused phone. Holding the microphone, I suddenly imagined that in that familiar yard, the family should sit together, enjoy the moon and eat moon cakes. They should sigh at this naive question, "Is there really a laurel on the moon?" Where is my little girl now?

It is another full moon, leaning against the railing, looking at the moon, daydreaming, and the past comes to mind.

Miss that trembling back, it exudes the brilliance of maternal love and walks with me all the way;

I miss the child who has insomnia because of homesickness. The strange environment made her understand the meaning of home more.

I miss that fool with a microphone, full of sadness, but trying to laugh and laugh. The first Mid-Autumn Festival away from home made the disc very clear. ...

However, why do they become so far away? Why do I miss it so deeply?

Heavy studies, the college entrance examination one year later, and the dream of the future university made me immersed in the mountains and rivers of books, and regarded going home as a waste of time, and I no longer had the original yearning and emotion. Only when you fail in the exam or encounter something unsatisfactory will you call a familiar number and return to China urgently to "heal".

As Zhang Xiaoxian wrote in When Do You Want to Go Home, when you feel depressed, you want to go home most. Really hit the nail on the head! Only when setbacks hit, will we stop being busy and stop thinking deeply; Only when the future is bleak will we return to the real world from the career we are desperately pursuing; Only when we are physically and mentally exhausted will we look back and miss that kindness and touch!

Yes, everything is instantaneous, and everything will pass. It is better to seize it now than to miss it. Let the past be a beautiful memory; Let now be the truest, most incisive and unforgettable feeling!

Feel that kind of "old"

Occasionally, I will make a pot of green tea, use a simple but pleasing teapot to let the tea rise and fall, and then lie quietly at the bottom of the cup, and the fresh tea fragrance will overflow the whole hut. There is a soft and distant erhu and pipa concerto dancing in my ear, and the wind gently blows through my hair, which is very refreshing.

I always open the old photo album at this moment, thick brown, inlaid with Phnom Penh patterns, but old and tasteful. At this time, I always look at every photo carefully and dig deep into my memory.

Mom said that the old banyan tree that often appeared in the photo album was planted by grandpa's grandfather, and gradually became thick and tall in the wind and rain. Looking at the old banyan tree in the photo, I remembered that when I was a child, whenever there was something happy and sad, I would run to talk to the old banyan tree. It is a loyal listener, silently tolerating my willfulness and temper.

I once carved my difficulties and setbacks on the bark with a knife to remind myself to keep them firmly in mind. However, the tree grows as tall as me, and the engraved handwriting disappears with the growth and growth of the tree. I have grown up and matured, and I know that those frustrating and difficult times will eventually pass, and then I will be slowly forgotten. The old banyan tree is full of my growing shadow.

There is another photo that moved me very much. The big boy in the photo is dressed simply, holding the admission notice of a key university in his hand, as if holding a hope. Standing under the banyan tree, smiling foolishly. He is my uncle, a native of the country. A few years ago, he shouted under the big banyan tree, shouting out his ideals and making his own wishes. A few years later, he finally got his wish, and finally brought good news to the old banyan tree with hard sweat. The old banyan tree entrusts him and many rural youths with beautiful hopes and longings.

I was still turning over in silence, and suddenly my eyes lit up, and a pair of young men and women took a group photo happily in front of the banyan tree. They put their hands on their chests and put a ring made of straw on their ring fingers. They put their hearts together. My mother said it was grandparents, and I was amazed at the moment. It turns out that in the old conservative era, grandparents were so forgetful that they promised a lifetime of happiness and tied the fate of the other half together. The old banyan tree witnessed this firm and loyal love, as well as their happiness and commitment.

Many, many touches and feelings are buried in old photo albums and under old banyan trees. They will not disappear, but will remain in our memory forever, what we have experienced or have not experienced, what we know or don't know. The story will never be forgotten and will always be staged.

Standing on the branches of the years

Time is a long poem, telling the past and conveying love! -inscription

Spring silkworms died, leaving behind luxurious silk; Flowers have withered, leaving a faint scent; The thrush flew away, leaving a beautiful song; Time flies, it left two lines of crooked footprints!

Through many joys and smiles, through many loneliness and hesitation, standing in the corridor of memory, I look back.

I once stared at the morning glory firmly, thinking that it would bring a cow; I used to wonder why the moon is curved and the stars are pointed. I was worried that fireflies would burn the sky; I once cried for a beautiful doll; Once I didn't understand why the sky was still there when a bird flew by ... years made childhood beautiful and lovely forever, and the joy and innocence of childhood were full of happiness.

I will never forget my rebellious expression when I was scolded by my mother; I will never forget the proud feeling when I first wore a red scarf gloriously; I will never forget the cheerful mood when traveling with my friends; I will never forget the sad expression when I was separated from my cousin ... The fleeting time recorded my youth and ignorance, my joys and sorrows, my joys and sorrows. Time is like this, always like fine sand flowing through your fingers and slipping away inadvertently. Those past joys and sorrows, washed by the passing years, passed away with the waves, but in the depths of your memory, they will last forever.

Time is sometimes a flowing river, sometimes a tortuous road, sometimes a bronze forehead like a road wrinkle, and sometimes suffering in a pair of long-term staring eyes. But in any case, some of them are describing the imprint of our lives. Years have given me the most beautiful and pure friendship, engraved with the process of meeting, knowing each other and knowing each other; Years have given me the closest relatives and beloved affection. In the four seasons that can't die, let the family love go deep into the bone marrow and let the family ties tie a perfect knot; Years have given me a feeling of teachers and students without regrets, engraved with the teacher's teaching and care.

Years have recorded the footprints of my life. Standing on the branches of the years, I began to understand, in the lost years, I want to understand.

time

The whole knowledge of life lies in dealing with time.

Sometimes it's worth a thousand dollars in an instant, sometimes it's not worth a penny for days, months, years or even decades.

When you live like a year and suffer from time, it shows that there is something wrong with your life and you are wasting your life.

When you feel that your work efficiency is in direct proportion to the running of time, you are nervous and full, which shows that your life is in a golden age.

People who forget time are happy, whether they are too busy to forget time, too busy to play, or too happy to forget time.

Dare to hurry, is a diligent person.

It is genius to catch up with time and make spiritual life as eternal as time.

More people have enjoyed it, wasted time, and were finally conquered by time.

Time is endless and life is endless.

Life always feels that time is not enough, so the struggle for time in life is tragic, which has produced many shocking stories, such as "hanging a beam on the head", "using a awl to stab a stock ticket" and "using wood as a pillow"

Don't expect time to be fair. Time is unfair to those who cherish time and those who don't, and time is unfair to free people and prisoners. The gold content of time depends on the value of life.

Time is never fair to young people and old people, and people's feelings about time depend on the length of life. The length of life is the denominator and time is the numerator. The older you get, the smaller the value of time, such as "blink of an eye"; The younger you are, the greater the value of time, such as "the road ahead is still long"

Time is as generous as you think. No matter how you spoil it, it won't say anything or get angry.

Time is as cunning as you think it is. What makes you old and makes you waste your life unconsciously is what you finally regret.

Time, as loyal as you think, has fulfilled your ambition and your will.

What kind of life, what kind of time

What kind of thoughts a person has, what kind of time he will occupy.

[Appendix]

Sun, Moon and Color Yang Wenyu

There is a river to the west of our village. The flowing water is clear and the flat beach is wide. From a distance, the shallow river seems to be a group of silver foils hanging on the beach, flashing gently.

In the countryside, the engagement ceremony is simple and solemn. I remember the day after our engagement, she and I waded across the river, deliberately distanced ourselves from each other and walked slowly on the flat and soft beach. The sunset touches the mountains, and the dusk haunts the treetops. On the other side of the river, the farmers' low houses are half hidden in the mist, and they are quiet from top to bottom. She is less than twenty years old. She has just broken the "shell" of her little daughter in the countryside and is about to step into the ranks of peasant women. I dare to turn around and take a closer look at her. It seems that she was already there against me. She suddenly turned her face away and deliberately looked at the sunset. Looking down at her eyes, there are short dark blue mountains on the distant horizon in the western sky, which are the same color as her bright and thick black hair. Half of the cheeks were red, which set off a half-hidden mountain sunset. The fiery sunset spread out from the side, sketching a beautiful and graceful image.

She didn't look back, just gently put a sentence: "There are so many outstanding women who won prizes in the village, why don't you ..."

"Everyone in the village says you are smart and spiritual." I answered.

"Who said that?"

"The old man said so. The old man has experienced a lot, and I believe what the old man said. "

She looked down her eyelashes and fell silent. I asked, "What's your name ... What's your impression of me?"

At night, the beach is breezy and clear and cool. She cocked her fingertips and swept away her sideburns disturbed by the night wind, not going to answer. How can this work! You can ask me, but I can't ask you. I secretly forced her with my eyes. Seeing that she couldn't hide, she bit her lip slightly and glanced at me a little maliciously: "Shall I say it?"

I nodded solemnly.

"You turtle bear!" The voice is not high, and the words are heavily bitten.

Turtles crawl in the mud at the bottom of the water; Come on, stupid "black blind man" in the world. In our country, this is a vicious and gnashing metaphor.

"Who said that? Who said this? " I stopped, the soles of my feet suddenly rose a nameless fire, held my breath and my chest fell together.

She bit her lips with fine teeth, narrowed her slender eyes and squinted at me calmly and mysteriously: "This is what the old people in the village said!" " "When she said this, her eyes were as vivid as a flash of lightning. At that moment, her whole body became more beautiful and sultry in the sunset glow. I swallowed a mouthful of saliva, just like swallowing a weighing scale.

"So, what about you ... do you believe those old deathlessly gossiping? ! "

She lowered her head and there was no sound. Stretch out a foot on the soft beach, paddle, paddle, paddle, and the golden fine sand is clean and bright, just like the sunset glow condensed on the ground, pure and incomparable.

"Have words said earlier, it's not too late to turn back. It will be too late to regret it later. " I will sue her and urge her to make a new statement. Engagement is just a form, and the real barrier in love is between engagement and marriage.

She raised her beautiful slender eyes and looked at the dark purple hillside in the east, where the new moon had just been raised. Her toes were still subconsciously paddling in circles, and she took a long breath: "Alas! The old man also said: spiritual people are slaves of turtles and bears! "

Shi Tiesheng, an old begonia tree

If possible, if there is an open space, whether in front of the window or behind the house, if I can plant something as I wish, I will plant two trees. An acacia tree in memory of mother. A begonia, in memory of my grandmother.

Grandma is inseparable from an old begonia tree in my memory; It seems that we have never been together, and grandma has been looking around in the shadow of that old begonia tree all her life.

Near the height of the house, there are two thick branches of an old begonia tree, bent like a recliner. When I was a child, I climbed up and played there every day. Grandma shouted under the tree, "Come down quickly, come down quickly, and you will stay up there for one day?" Yes, I read picture books there, took pictures everywhere with a slingshot, and even did my homework there, with my schoolbag hanging on the eaves. "Do you also eat rice on it?" Yes, eat. Grandma held the delicious food above her head, my legs clung to the branches, and the moon in the sea caught the food. "What do you think? Sleep on it, too?" That's right. Surrounded by the fragrance of flowers, it buzzes, and the spring breeze caresses your face. It is the flower rain stained with spotless begonia. Grandma stood on the ground, standing in front of the house, under the old begonia tree, looking at me; She must be envious. Guess what I feel and see on it.

But is she just looking at me? She often stays alone, her eyes gradually become confused and empty, and she doesn't know what to expect through the dense branches and leaves of the old begonia tree.

In spring, the old begonia tree shakes the tree and flowers, shaking off the snowflake-like petals. I remember grandma sitting under the tree pasting a paper bag and nagging me from time to time: "Why don't you come down and help me?" How quickly your little hands paste! "I sing sentence by sentence in the tree. Grandma added, "Did I beg you? This work is very tight! " I said, "My parents don't want you to paste that stupid thing at all, but you have to be so tired! Grandma said nothing, straightened up and held her breath. At this time, she just looked around again-from pink flowers to the infinite sky.

It's still summer, and the old begonia tree is flourishing. Grandma is sitting in the shade of the tree, and I don't know where she got the job of mending flowers. She wears reading glasses and buries her head in a bed sheet or quilt, sewing one needle at a time. When it was getting dark, she shouted at me, "Can't you go and wash the vegetables?" ? Can't you see I'm too busy? "I jumped down from the tree, washed vegetables and washed things. Grandma was angry: "you go to work and go to school, so you fool?" Grandma pushed away her work and said, "I have to cook for you all my life? Can't I have my own job? " I stopped talking this time. Grandma washed the bowl, picked up a needle and thread, raised her eyes from the upper edge of reading glasses, looked around and waited for a while.

One autumn, the old begonia tree was still full of fruits and lush foliage. Grandma got up and cleaned the yard before dawn in the morning. "Shua ... shua ..." Everyone in the yard is still dreaming. At that time, I was old and was cutting in line, coming back from northern Shaanxi to see her. At that time, grandma was alone in Beijing, and both parents went to cadre schools. At that time, grandma was hunched over. The sound of "swish, swish, swish" woke me up and ran out: "You rest, I'll do it, I promise it won't take three minutes." But this time grandma doesn't want my help. "Well, you! Don't you understand? I have to work. " I said, "But who can see it?" Grandma said, "You can't do this. Whether people can see or not is someone else's business. I have to be conscious. " She swept the yard and then the street. "Can I sweep with you?" "impossible."

Only in this way can I understand why she insists on pasting paper bags, mending flowers and not letting herself be idle. Supported by her parents, she is not making money, but working. Her composition is to fight the landlord with grandpa. Although my grandfather, the landlord, died in his thirties, it was his grandmother who took three sons with him for decades, but what do people say? People say, "But you still eat exploitative food for so many years!" "This made her feel ashamed. This made her sigh alone. This made her decades of suffering suddenly turn into humiliation. She wants to make amends for this sin. She wants to prove it with action. Prove what? She thinks she may not be able to support herself one day. I have a little understanding of grandma's mind: when will she have a proper job like mom and dad? Perhaps this is what she sees, that is, the constant confusion and emptiness under the old begonia tree. However, this prospect may be even bigger-she said: keep pace with the times.

So in winter, the whole winter, in my memory, almost every winter night, grandma studied under the lamp. Outside the window, in the wind, the dead branches of the old begonia tree beat on the eaves and rubbed against the window lattice. Grandma used to read a literacy textbook and then read the front page news of the newspaper word for word. In Grandma's Stars, I wrote that when she was learning the national anthem, she pronounced "roar" as "the voice of a hole". I wrote the most unforgivable thing: grandma approached me cautiously with a newspaper: "Tell me about this paragraph, what does it mean?" Without looking, I replied, "Is it useful for you to learn that skill? Do you think you can really take off your hat by knowing those things? " Grandma didn't say anything at once, just looked down at the newspaper and kept her eyes for a long time. My heart suddenly tightened, but I knew it was irreparable. "Grandma." "grandma!" "Grandma-"I remember when she finally looked up, her eyes were full of shame and she didn't blame me.

But in my impression, grandma's eyes slowly left the newspaper, the lights, me, stopped on the shadow of the old begonia tree on the window, and continued to leave, leaving all the sounds and even all the tangible things, drifting into the night, drifting over the starlight, drifting into helpless confusion and emptiness ... In my dream, in my prayer, the old begonia tree also crashed away, followed grandma, accompanied. Grandma sat in the dense shade and looked around, or kept asking me to tell her, "What does this paragraph mean?" This image, year after year, is fixed as my yearning, and I will always regret it.

This article is transferred from [Jiangsu Education Edition High School Chinese Teaching Network]:/gaokao/gkzw/201002/1191.html.