The composition of gratitude and affection is about 600 words! ! ! ! urgent

An eternal topic, how many literati splashed ink on it, leaving immortal poems. The thread in the hand of a kind mother makes clothes for her wayward children. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. However, an inch of long grass is a little sentimental, and it has won three spring rays. "A feeling of love, a feeling of reluctance, a feeling of loving my son; "People have joys and sorrows, and the moon is full of rain or shine. This matter is old and difficult. I hope that people will be together for a long time. " A kind of sadness, a kind of helplessness, a feeling of missing; "The moon has now filled the sea and lit up the whole sky." A feeling of hope, acacia and expectation.

Affection, a gentle spring gushes from the heart and moistens the whole body, just like a crisp light rain moistening the earth and arousing a vibrant early spring.

Affection, although not as graceful as the beautiful flowers with red calyx all over the mountains, is not as magnificent as the waterfall that "flies down three thousands of feet", and it is not as earth-shattering and shocking as the giant thunder that "the god of thunder and lightning, the hills collapse and urge". But she is gentle as water and warm as spring, which brings unforgettable feelings to people.

There are stories of crows feeding back, lambs bowing down to their mothers' affection, and elves returning to their roots with fallen leaves. There is a very frank sentence: "I can't live without my grandmother, and my grandmother can't live without me for the rest of her life." The mother and son are more dependent on each other and can't waste the distance. " There is also a heavy affection that makes me burst into tears. A mother unfortunately suffered from uremia and needed a kidney transplant. Relatives at home are at a loss, and only her five-year-old daughter shoulders the heavy responsibility. At an early age, I sold flowers and fruits on the streets and trains just to earn money for my mother's kidney disease. Nothing can stop her deep love for her mother. How strong and powerful is the will to bear the load in that young and thin body!

Family is the warm spring breeze, which brings us the strength to forge ahead; Affection, that is, the vast blue sky, has brought us the open-mindedness of being lenient with others; Affection, that is, the lofty mountain, brings us the eternity of love.

Touched by family, intoxicated by family, infatuated with family.

Hug your family and experience the true meaning of life.

Emotional Sanqu

On the most helpless road of life, family is the most lasting motivation, giving us selfless help and dependence; On the most lonely emotional road, family members are the most sincere companions, which makes us feel incomparable warmth and comfort; At the most helpless crossroads, affection is the clearest road sign, guiding us to reach our goal smoothly.

Simply put, affection is just a small nest built by several branches. But I'm young, and I can jump into it at once. There is a bowl of water in it, which is cool and sweet, nourishing my thirsty soul. There is a bulging bag, full of fragrance, full of my endless desires; There is a bed inside, soft and warm, soothing my inexplicable sadness; There is also a potted flower, a painting, a poem, decorated with some reminders and embedded with some entrustment. ...

Emotion is a guitar that is carried obliquely. The deeper you love, the more you can touch your heartstrings. Family is a vine, no matter where you are, it always holds your hand tightly; Affection is a bunch of keys hanging around the neck, opening the melancholy doors and windows. Love, between the eyebrows, in a shallow smile, in my lyric ditty.

Grow up.

Affection is rain, which takes away irritability and leaves coolness; Family is the wind, blowing away sadness and leaving happiness; Family is the sun, which takes away darkness and leaves light. Affection is the greatest. No matter you are happy, depressed, painful or hesitant, it will always walk gently on your road and accompany you quietly for a lifetime.

There is no "White-headed Life and Death", but it also makes the "sunset speechless"; There is no "we want two birds to fly in the sky with one wing and grow together on the ground, two branches of a tree." Vows of eternal love, but it is also "everlasting, everlasting; The two will end one day and will be connected by blood forever "; There is no saying that "the body is like a willow in front of the door, and the branches and leaves are inseparable", but there is a silent wish that "people may live together for a long time" ... The falling snowflake can't take away the solidified memory, it will cross the dignity of time and space and enter the age of not getting old, waiting silently like a bud, reluctant to part with the sunset, and reflecting two words in the depths of the soul.

Family is a tree, everyone is its root, let it absorb nutrition and stay young forever; Family is a river, and everyone is its tributary, so that it will never dry up and surge forward; Family is a fire, and everyone is its firewood, so that it will never go out and warm the four sides.

Affection is like water, which makes complex things pure after filtering; Affection is like fire, which makes plain look sharp and angular through calcination; Affection is poetry, which makes boredom reach an artistic conception after modification. Family, the eternal power of life.

It moistens everything silently and gently.

Silent wind, blowing green the earth; Love, silence, moistens the soul.

I used to think that my father was a slow person.

When I was a child, my mother accompanied me when flying kites, and my father picked up kites.

Learning to ride a bike, my mother helped me fall down, and my father stood by and called me up to continue.

When I was a child, I was in trouble. It was my father who hit me and my mother who gave me the medicine.

It was my mother who gave me a birthday party and blew out the candles with me. It is my father who blows balloons for me.

Finger infection, when I went to the hospital to pull out my broken nails, my mother held me trembling slightly and repeatedly told me not to be afraid. It was my father who was held tightly by me without saying a word.

..... because my father can't express his feelings, or ...

I began to look for the answer with my heart.

Every time, there is something wrong with my bike. The next day, it was repaired and polished. Afterwards, I learned that my father did it.

I always put a sharpened pencil on the desk the morning before every exam. Afterwards, I learned that my father did it.

Every time I get angry at the sudden trip of the TV, the TV screen always flashes. I know my father did it.

Every time I come home from school, I can almost eat hot meals. I know, my father made it.

The file on the desk was put by my father.

The beloved alarm clock at the bedside was repaired by my father.

The mark on the wall of the hut was erased by my father.

……

Suddenly, I realized that it was not my father's "dullness" but my stupidity. I didn't realize the warmth behind silence!

Light is silent and illuminates the earth; Love is silent and warms the heart.

Fatherly love, speechless.

Immortal scenery on the heartstrings, bright sweat and heavy breathing, my father planted vicissitudes in the ravines around his forehead and eyes. Looking intently, I broke down in my father's eyes and set sail. -Inscription Father put another book on my desk and left quietly. Father always does this, coming silently and leaving silently. My father has been silent for more than 30 years. After more than 30 years of ups and downs, my father's unchanging face-old and monotonous, has always maintained its inherent dignity. Maybe it's the age gap, maybe it's the lack of communication in my heart. I always like to pour out my thoughts in my mother's arms under delicate touch, and often my father is on the side, listening. I never understood my father. One day, I came across a book-English grammar, which was very old. Is it dad's? This is really my father's book with my father's name on it. Not only that, there is a poem on the title page of the book: "I would like to be a winged camel/conquer the boundless desert with diligence/soar in the Pacific Ocean with wings/seize the opportunity in life/after all/far greater than what others have given me/"Powerful handwriting can only be written by my father's hand. Father can write poetry! "I would like to be a winged camel/conquer the boundless desert with diligence/soar in the Pacific Ocean with wings." At that time, my father not only pursued, but also yearned for Mercedes-Benz and the end of the world. Maybe he once dreamed of becoming a poet. Poets are so sacred to me. I never expected to be a poet one day, even though it was not known to everyone. However, my father gave up this pursuit and this dream. Why? Why did my father stop running, but he was caught by the reins of life? Is it because grandpa died young, or because grandma is sick ... There are too many reasons for my father to give up his dream, and the reality is always so cruel. Now that life is good, my father doesn't have to work hard all his life, but he is old. An old ship won't have a chance to ride the wind and waves. All a father can have is to expect his children to continue his dreams. What the father can do is to work silently, so that his daughter can study more with peace of mind and sail farther than him in the future. Perhaps, I entered this enviable middle school and made my father proud; Perhaps this expensive tuition made my father hesitate. But I was admitted to this school as I wished, but my father's white hair is also more. My father often picks me up in the cold wind, and I have never been moved. Perhaps because he gave me too much love, I was numb and enjoyed this love with a clear conscience. After all, a father's love is not as delicate and warm as a mother's love, but he always cares about you in the wind and rain. Reading a poem written by my father and holding his newly bought book, I feel really different ―― heavy but warm. How can it not sink? How can it not be warm? Father, I love you. You have touched my life and will always be an immortal scenery on the heartstrings. It's so hot when I grow up. The weather in summer is so hot that I wake up from my dream again. Lying in bed tossing and turning, I couldn't sleep, so I had to get up and go to the window to blow the wind. I didn't expect the night sky in summer to be so beautiful! This reminds me of my childhood dream of flying freely under the beautiful night sky. Now that I think about it, my childhood life was really carefree. Unlike now, there are always dark clouds in my heart. Suddenly, a star in the sky shines brightly, and the strong light breaks through the darkness and illuminates the whole world. I can't open my eyes. Soon, when I opened my eyes again, a man appeared, floating in mid-air. Seeing this situation, my body seems to be sealed up, and my hands and feet don't work. After a while, I finally said, "Who are you?" "I, I am you." "You, me, you are me?" I asked doubtfully. "Yes, I will be you in twenty years." After 20 years, why am I still here after 20 years? ""Don't you like life as a child? I have come to help you realize this wish from twenty years later. " "wish?" "Yes, I can send you back to the first grade." "Really? "I can't help exclaiming." Yes, if you like. ""yes, of course I like it. " I answered without thinking. Suddenly, the light just now appeared again. When I opened my eyes again, I saw such a familiar sight. Yes, this is my hometown. Although it was night, I recognized it at a glance. At this time, another me appeared. "You haven't changed anything except your voice and figure now. And when you want to go back, you shout at the sky at 12 pm. "Later, he disappeared again. Although I don't understand all this, I'm still happy to go back to my childhood. The next morning, I got up early and went to school early Because my knowledge hasn't changed, my grades in school are excellent and I am very popular with teachers and family. At first, my life was very happy, but after a long time, I found that I couldn't live such a life at all: it was really embarrassing for a junior high school student to care so much about his family; Moreover, when facing my classmates, my topic can never be discussed with them. In my opinion, their knowledge is too naive. I can't live like this anymore. At this time, I found that people are constantly growing. We shouldn't always miss the past. If we want to be better tomorrow, we should start working hard today. The bell of 12 rang and the cry echoed in the night sky.

It seems that since childhood, most of the compositions involving family ties are about mothers, their tenderness, kindness and love. We always intentionally or unintentionally ignore another person who is equally important to our lives-father.

A father's love for his children is always reserved. He doesn't like to talk about love like his mother. He just expressed it with actions. When I grew up, I met some people and things. I began to get to know my father with the idea of getting rich. More and more, I feel that every father has a warm heart and gives his children 100% affection, no matter how much pressure they are under.

Xiao Qiao and Aqiao are my good friends, so I got to know their father vaguely.

Ying is the happiest of the three of us. At least she has a very complete family. Jane's father married a northern woman in the educated youth era and settled there. My father is a university professor, a typical intellectual-gentle, without desire or desire. To this end, Jane often says that her mother is not worthy of her father, and she never hides her admiration for her father. So I always laughed at her deep love for her father.

Every Wednesday, when his father comes to visit the school, Jane always walks around the campus holding his father's arm, chatting and kissing his father's cheek before leaving. This is hard for me to imagine.

I don't know which fortune-telling book I read. She said that if she could receive a silver ring from a boy on her birthday this year, she would be happy all her life. She really wore a ring at the birthday party, which was very delicate. Aqiao proudly told Xiao Qiao and me that my father bought it with his own private money when he went to Beijing to see friends, but my mother didn't know.

At that moment, I was in a trance. I imagine that a middle-aged man may be too poor to buy a gold-plated ring for his new wife 20 years ago, but 20 years later he will wander in front of the gold and silver jewelry counter and carefully select it just to satisfy his daughter's childlike desire. I can imagine Jane's father sitting on the train. He has no money to buy gifts for others except a ring he wears. However, there is no anxiety in his heart that will be blamed by his wife, because he protects his daughter from even a trivial sense of loss. This is enough to make Aqiao proud and move me.

At this time, Xiao Qiao said with a smile, Aqiao is still like a child.

I understand Xiao Qiao's feelings when he said this. She is undoubtedly the most precocious of the three of us. Xiao Qiao's mother's sudden death in junior high school hit her hard and hurt her forever. But Xiao Qiao is stronger than anyone thought, which may be influenced by his father who was born in the army.

Xiao Qiao's family style is very strict. His father always disciplines Xiao Qiao by running the army, and demands Xiao Qiao by the standards of boys, sometimes even unkind. For example, after mom died, dad didn't even allow Xiao Qiao to wear black sleeves. It sounds cruel, but it does help Xiao Qiao get out of his grief as soon as possible. Xiao Qiao said that she always remembers what her father said to her-the best memory of the living for the dead is to live well. Every time I think of my mother, she will think of this sentence at the same time.

Xiao Qiao still has no stepmother. In fact, she doesn't object to her father's remarriage, but her father doesn't seem to have any plans to have a second wife. I have read some articles about the stress of middle-aged people in the newspaper. I understand that after entering the age of no doubt, there will be a lot of confusion. The stress of work and mental loneliness can make people breathless. In addition, his wife died and his daughter lived on campus. I don't know how Xiao Qiao's father endures the lifeless loneliness in the house after coming home from work every day, so that his daughter won't be hurt at all.

After listening to their stories, I can't help thinking of myself. If Joe is her father who worships her and Joe is her father who fears, then I can only have deep pity for my father.

Yes, unfortunately.

Father is the kind of person who has little education and little money. Family may be his last spiritual sustenance, but only a year ago, this only sustenance also fell apart. I have vaguely heard some stories about my parents when they were young-at that time, my parents almost died because of my grandmother's resolute opposition, so I believe that my parents really loved each other at that time, so I can fully understand how deeply my mother felt for my father after choosing the lifestyle she wanted. For this reason, I stayed with my father and didn't want to see the end of his painstaking 20-year separation. Then,

But over the past year, my relationship with my father has not been very harmonious because we live alone. In the final analysis, it is still for the word "money".

After my mother left, there was not much money left at home, and my father had to save part of his meager salary for me to go to college later, so the daily expenses seemed tight. After discussing with grandma, dad asked me to go to her house for dinner every day. My aunt is a selfish person who always looks at me with that cold and contemptuous look. That sense of humiliation weighed heavily on my mind. Finally, once, I lost my temper with my dad and told him that I would never go to my grandmother's house for dinner again, even if I starved to death.

My father looked at me blankly and tried to explain, but only said a few words. He said that you know our present situation, and we still need a lot of money after entering the university. There's nothing I can do.

Looking at my inarticulate father, I humbly told the truth, and suddenly felt infinite guilt, feeling that I was too ignorant and inconsiderate of my father; At the same time, I have never hated and loved money as much as I did at that moment. While I hate its filth, I am determined to make a lot of money in the future and burn them one by one.

Later, my father began to buy lottery tickets, from two yuan sports lottery tickets to one hundred yuan welfare lottery tickets. Every time there is a lottery on TV, my father will sit there with a pile of colorful papers in his hand-I think he is imagining that they can bring him a lot of wealth.

Once my father told me happily that he won a small prize, with a bonus of 100 yuan. He said he might win1800,000 next time, or he might become a rich man tomorrow, or ... I suddenly feel that my father in front of me is strange and terrible. He scrimped and saved, quit smoking and drinking, and pinned his dream of making money on a pile of rotten paper, hoping to find a long-lost sense of dignity in them. Deep down, at this point, I think my father is possessed, he is crazy, crazy in his unconscious.

I feel a little sad when I think like this. But what happened one morning made me feel heartbroken-

Father who is washing his face says his lips hurt. Maybe it's because the internal fire is too heavy. I saw his lips split and blood was oozing from them. So I took out my lip balm from my schoolbag and said, Dad, let me paint it for you.

I leaned close to my father's face and gently lifted his chin with my left hand-this is the first time I have looked at my father's face so closely in a long time. I saw that his face was thin, there was pigment deposition in his skin, and his eyes were full of wrinkles. I always thought I was the father of the "afterlife", but I was really old, so suddenly, I was caught off guard. Thinking about these days, my father is under great mental pressure, but I am still very unreasonable, demanding of him and never sharing the pain in life with him. At this point, my nose is a little sour, my heart is full of guilt, and I have a dull pain. I can't say why.

When I was going out, I left my lip balm with my father and told him to apply some if my lips hurt. My father insisted on refusing to take it, and stuffed it into my schoolbag, saying that I had nothing to do and told me to keep it for my own use. I dare not argue again, and I dare not look back, for fear that something suddenly wet on my face will be seen by my father.

On that day, I got a large amount of manuscript fee, plus a scholarship from the school, so I extravagant and went to a restaurant with my father. While drinking, father said a lot. He told me to study hard, find a good job and make a lot of money in the future, and buy him a house for his old age, preferably a high-rise building-he wants that condescending feeling, and the room should have a new balcony, floor-to-ceiling curtains, comfortable Simmons, complete sets of sanitary equipment, and ... ...

My father said something cheerfully. I cried in the dressing room on the pretext of getting some air. I can't say why, but maybe it's just out of pity. I pity my father and myself. Father said he would live in a high-rise house, a bedroom with a big balcony and sleep in Simmons. These words kept appearing in my mind for a long time and refused to disappear.

Writing here, I was suddenly embarrassed and didn't know how to end. I think it is possible that at this time, A Qiu's father can't stand A Qiu's indifference and is about to take A Qiu to enjoy her favorite Pizza Hut. Xiao Qiao's father just came back with Xiao Qiao's tomb sweeping. He must pray silently in front of the grave, and Xiao Qiao's mother can bless Xiao Qiao to be admitted to Fudan. As for my father, I know what he is doing. He just bought a small disc and is busy washing and cutting it in the kitchen. Although his cooking is not necessarily better than his mother's, I am still very happy. On such an early spring weekend, when I heard the gas turned on at home, the air smelled of happiness, even though I didn't have much money.

Feel feelings

"Shake, shake, shake to the Waipo Bridge ..." I don't know who gently snorted and pulled me back from my thoughts. Waipoqiao, Waipoqiao, grandma must be looking at me again. In front of my eyes, it seems that she is leaning against her short figure, standing on the high threshold and leaning on the door on tiptoe. At this time, a deep affection, such as the warm sunshine in spring, spilled into my heart and made me feel extremely happy.

My grandmother is a loyal Jesuit. Every night, she always finished her meal early, knelt on the hard bed as usual, and led me to pray together. Because I was young, my grandmother was afraid that I couldn't stand kneeling on a too hard bed, so she found a cotton bag to cushion me. Grandma has never been to school in her life, but her way of praying is really unique, which can be called "methodical". Every time I say a word, I always add an "Amen" at the end. I have no idea what it means, and I don't think grandma understands it very well either. I just think it's fun to resonate with her. Every day, she will pray for her children and grandchildren one by one: I hope this is healthy and safe, and I wish everything well; Of course, there are also many words of praise for Jesus. Then there is singing, these songs, grandma will hum a few words from time to time. Many times, when I was tired of kneeling, I stole a look at her, but she was still kneeling. Thinking of grandma's leg illness for many years, I'm really worried that grandma can't bear it. So I asked, "Grandma, are you tired?" She struggled to raise her head: "Don't cross it, or it will be invalid." I stared at her in disbelief. Her eyes were wide open, full of firmness and piety. I had to stop talking and stare at the cotton bag.

As I grow older, I gradually understand that praying to Jesus is superstitious and there is no savior at all. So, I began to publicize to my grandmother: this is a superstitious practice and extremely unscientific. Her mouth is flat, her old face seems to have tears in her cloudy eyes. She seems offended. Yes, relatives and friends don't believe this at all. Now even I, who prayed with her since I was a child, have begun to doubt and alienate her. She trembled and said, "Who said that? A sincere person will definitely impress the savior! "

I won't argue with my grandmother anymore. Maybe she has a point. "If you are sincere, the stone will open." . The old man meant no harm. Prayer became her comfort, her pillar and her sustenance!

Recalling these, I also remembered the brown seeds that my grandmother specially sent from my mother the other day. The fragrance that wafts from time to time makes me cry. So, I couldn't help singing a poem:

Grandma made zongzi herself,

Travel thousands of miles,

Fall on my dining table;

A wisp of fragrance,

Full of love.

I opened the zongzi,