At about five o'clock in the afternoon, I got on the bus home and started my journey home.
After the friendly guidance of passers-by, we finally set foot on the Zhu Yong Expressway-the expressway to go home. As soon as I got on the highway, my seat belt kept controlling my activities, and I could only sit quietly like a caged bird.
The sky is blue and the clouds are white. The sunset on the horizon reflects the green space on the right side of the expressway, as if it were a vast plain.
I don't know how many tunnels have passed, and it is getting dark. We don't know anything about it in the tunnel. Just out of the tunnel, we were like a person standing in front of someone else's window, soaked by the water spilled by that family from the window. Like a waterfall, the rain falls on the car and makes a "pa-da-pa-da" sound. The wiper immediately moved, without hesitation. Everything in front of me is blurred.
I'm glad the rain stopped soon. Bored to sleep, but not very deep. I woke up after sleeping for more than ten minutes. Rain, like an unpredictable spirit, falls quietly, first in Mao Mao, and then as heavy as mountain torrents. The wipers kept brushing back and forth, and they were very happy. Finally, they have the opportunity to show their talents and show others our abilities.
Wipers brush faster and faster and "run" back and forth like shuttles. Over time, the wiper seems to be tired, not as energetic as before. I think the wiper is like a dancer, dancing on the glass with the sound of rain. The wiper is like an artist, leaving a fan-shaped mark on the glass.
When the rain stopped, I had already gone home. After a few hours' journey, I have lost my drowsiness. I insisted on finishing my homework and sleeping peacefully.
First grade composition 2 "Go home! "
I pushed open the door and faced this familiar and warm home, I felt a feeling I had never felt before-it's good to be home!
Yes, it feels good! Think of these five days, the devil's training in the labor base, the hard and cold food, forgetting to add cold water to the bath, and almost scalding the roast duck … These unpleasant memories make me feel at home!
As soon as I got home, I rushed into the bathroom, turned on the convenient water heater and began to take a shower. Wow! It feels so good! This reminds me of the five days in the labor base. I took a bath and poured half a bucket of hot water. I thought I was at home. My mother scooped up the water with the prepared bath water and put her hand into the water. Wow! I dare not scream, for fear that my classmates will laugh at me. I can only wash silently with cold water, endure the pain and shed tears for my uselessness. ...
But the labor base also has a lot of fun. The words that students care about wash away all the troubles in daily life-in fact, I am at home, isn't it good to take care of myself?
In the evening, I enjoyed a sumptuous dinner. I can't help but think of the bitter rice in the labor base. Every day, the cold "nutrition package" is next to hunger. Fortunately, there is food to take. After receiving the food from my mother, I feel very warm, very warm-even if I am used to being wild, I will miss home.
All these, no matter where, feel good to be home. This is a feeling I have never felt before ... I can't express it in words.
After eating the fruit, I silently think and recall. Looking at my mother's familiar and unfamiliar cheeks, I ... The sharp contrast between these two places makes me no longer want to live outside, and also makes me no longer have a good impression on leaving home. But let me know what is warmth, what is home and what is the feeling of home.
I look around this warm and familiar home. ...
The sunset glow is very red, shining on the earth washed by rain. There was a little girl who was eleven or twelve years old walking alone in the street, and Xia Hong took her shadow for a long time. That little girl is me. I was worried at the time. I'm afraid my parents will scold me. Since I started to enter school, my parents forbade me to go home after 5: 30. I am seldom late, but today I am an hour late. I can't imagine my parents being angry. I regret not having a mother.
When I went to school in the morning, my mother said it was going to rain and asked me to take an umbrella, but I was too troublesome to grab breakfast and ran to school like a whirlwind. In the afternoon, the weather changed suddenly, and all of a sudden, a rare rainstorm began. After school, my classmates were picked up by my parents one after another, so I had to wait until the rain stopped.
When I opened the door, my parents were eating silently, and my brother was silent, his face almost buried in the bowl. I came to the table carefully and explained the reason to my parents. Mom and dad were silent, and my heart almost jumped out. After a long time, my father said, "Write a composition of 500 words." I secretly breathed a sigh of relief and looked at my mother again. "Eat." I only heard my mother say a word lightly.
Although my parents didn't talk about me this time, it also made me form a habit-whether it rains or not, the umbrella is kept in my schoolbag for 24 hours. I dare not go home late again.
This is the last time I went home, which let me know my parents' love for me.
There are four compositions in the first day of junior high school, which are a warm harbor built by our parents and a place where our hearts can rest a little. No matter when and where, the door of home is always open for us and always warms us.
Sometimes, we feel that our parents can't understand us, so we have a quarrel. We always wonder why our parents are so cruel to us. It is that we forget the little love in our hearts, which was built with the tears and sweat of our parents! We always remember our parents' anger, but forget our happiness and the happy road we walked together.
Perhaps, we used to take our parents' love for granted. I once read an article on the post bar: 1 year old, 2 years old ... 30 years old, parents pay for us with their little love, and we give them back. Cold eyes? Swearing? We don't know how heartbreaking this is for our parents. You know, how happy they are that they have done so much for us. I just hope we can grow up soon.
Don't forget what you once had. Cherish what you can't get. Don't give up what is yours. What has been lost is left as a memory.
The blue castle once smiled, prayed and made naive wishes. Maybe our love is not lonely, but the meteor will die one day. Cherish the little love we have now.
Every day when I get home, the lights at the door are quietly on. I can understand that this is a little love from our parents, waiting for us to carefully collect and light up our way home.
Dandelion has blossomed, from the spring when grass grows and warblers fly to the hot summer. Its petite body is even open to the depths of autumn.
The wild chrysanthemums all over the mountain dyed the whole country yellow, but only two or three dandelions were in full bloom. They either bloom under rocks that rain and snow can't hit, or they bloom in withered grass. Anyway, they always bloom in the corner or somewhere where they can hide themselves.
Dandelions can float away with the wind. They want to fly into the blue sky and white clouds, and fly to distant hillsides and grasslands with the floating clouds. Everything that passes by, it will scatter its flowers somewhere and then sow them.
A flower is the soul of a plant, a tree or a grass, and its soul has returned to its hometown with the wind or clouds. This year, they will sprout, spread their leaves and bloom on the river banks, Shan Ye and grasslands, and redecorate their rural areas; And a dandelion who has left his hometown may never return to his hometown. When will he return to the land that gave birth to him and nourished his life?
Dandelion is a flower drifting away from home. It sows seeds and separates its children from it. Although she is a cruel mother, she should have her own difficulties. I can't help feeling a little sad to see those children left behind by their mothers. But some children live happily.
No matter how bumpy the road of the years is, no matter how far the footsteps are, no matter how long the way home is, you must fly back. Back to the familiar soil, back to my mother. ...
Going back to my hometown this winter vacation, I did the most meaningful thing, that is, doing it!
Every New Year, there is a custom in our hometown, that is, we have to package jiaozi ourselves. What is this, jiaozi? A Chinese herbal medicine named Mianyinchen was used to mash its leaves to make green liquid, and then this liquid was mixed with flour to make green dough. Like Bao jiaozi, this dough is wrapped with stuffing prepared in advance (like wrapping moon cakes), and then there is a mold, which is peach-shaped. Put the wrapped dough into the mold and press it hard to make it. I used my imagination, stole a dough and pinched a turtle like plasticine. Although the shape is not good, it is still delicious!
I thought grandma did the best, so I secretly asked her how she did it. Is there any secret? Grandma told me: "When I was a child, my mother taught me to make quilts. Every time I don't do well, my mother will hit my hand, but I can see that she cares about me very much. Every time I don't do well, she secretly leaves me one or two. I study very hard, so when I was your age, I already made this quilt like a model. " Oh, there was no opportunism. You must devote time and thought to study.
In the evening, my family was tasting grandma's craft, and I was tasting my own little turtle. Grandma, I will study this traditional craft hard and cook it for the whole family!