Butterfly Prose on Winter Night

The essay Butterfly on a Winter Night is familiar in our life, work and study. Prose is a literary genre that expresses the author's true feelings. Next, I will share my prose about butterflies on winter nights with you!

Butterfly Prose on a Winter Night 1 Thirty years ago, there was a serious contradiction between my parents, and my mother sadly took me back to my hometown. In order to make a living, my mother found a friend and a temporary worker to sweep the road. What a cold night!

I have to get up at four o'clock every morning and go out to work. Because my mother is weak, I have to endure drowsiness and cold to get up and go out with my mother. My mother laboriously pushes a heavy garbage truck and carries a bamboo broom heavier than my body. So they went out in the cold and dark.

It's freezing outside! Even if you think about it in summer, you will shudder! Every breath consumes all your strength. After a few minutes, your hands, feet, ears and nose will lose consciousness, and your little hand will take off a layer of skin in an instant when holding the handle of the garbage truck.

Mom worked hard to sweep the road, so I just watched her and stayed with her. I said, mom, are you tired? I will dance for you. Mom will say: in the middle of the night, people will think you are crazy when they see you! In fact, her face is full of joy. I said: no one can see in the middle of the night!

So, while sweeping the floor, my mother watched me dance freely in the middle of the road until my hair, eyebrows and eyelashes were covered with frost. I asked my mother: Do you think I dance like a butterfly?

Sometimes, I accidentally slipped by the frost on the road, and the mother and daughter squatted down and laughed loudly, sometimes waking the beggars on the street corner. When you meet a kind beggar, you will say, big sister, your daughter is so kind!

In this way, we survived the whole winter until the following spring, when I dropped out of school, got a job in a company and started working.

Thirty years later, on this motherless winter night, I think of her and my heart is full of sweetness. ...

Butterfly Prose on Winter Night 2 The wind blows cold, and the silent town is full of butterflies. Thousands of butterflies landed on street corners and arranged in various beautiful shapes.

I have seen such a beautiful picture more than once, which always surprises me. Like a line of free poems, engraved under the buttonwood tree on campus;

Like a string of wonderful notes, plug in wings and fly leisurely; Like a simple paper boat, gently drifting across the river of time; Like a cluster of flowers on a branch, it has experienced a complete spring, summer, autumn and winter. At the end of the novel, there is a whirlpool of butterfly love.

Beautiful winter, fixed at the opening. The winter in memory is always very cold, and the biting north wind is biting. It snowed for three days in winter when I was a child. On the ancient canal, there are several ships lying across. Ancient stone bridges, one after another.

In the distance is the poplar in my hometown, and the wheat fields on the river beach are covered with thick snow. Beautiful snowflakes are embarrassing in the air, and two blue magpies fly to the top of the tree to announce good news. Flourishing goose feathers fall on vast land, on ancient canals, on quiet villages and on the roots of life.

Wearing mother's cotton shoes, walking on the weir covered with snow. The villagers who bought tofu began to shout at the top of their lungs, and the hot tofu spread in the cold air, which suddenly made people open their stomachs.

Mother bought a catty of hot tofu, mixed with the red pepper cooked earlier and sprinkled with some chopped shallots. A "Chili mixed with tofu" makes you sweat and warm.

Diamond-shaped snowflakes, melting in the country road, melting in the singing of my mother calling me. Snow covers Shui Mu, covering spring, autumn, winter and summer. The trees in Snow Country are still tall and straight, standing still.

In winter in my hometown, Yushu Qionghua is everywhere; Winter in my hometown is as beautiful as ice sculpture; In winter in my hometown, I am never afraid of snow and cold.

The scenery of life is high and low. Only through the ordinary road of ravines, can we step out a broad road to success. Walking through the snow left traces, and deep and shallow footprints warmed the memory of cold winter and years. Walking on a busy street corner, I suddenly feel more alive in winter.

Time is a sand painting, with various wonderful outlines changing on the screen of years. When you walk through the four seasons and enjoy the scenery along the way, you will have no regrets in your life. Time is a butterfly, diving into the sky of memory.

The world of fallen leaves accidentally touched the inner strings, just like a stone thrown on a calm lake, which suddenly aroused beautiful waves. Winter has opened the door, and spring is not far away. Those lovely spirits, flying over lonely sandbars, flying over fast-flowing rivers and flying to more distant places.

When I saw butterflies flying, I thought of my father. It has been seven years since my father left us.

Time flies, taking away so many plants and fireworks, crashing away the lingering sadness and joy, while my father is like a slowly rising cloud in my heart, clean and ethereal, and flapping his wings like a butterfly. ...

When my father left, it was the Mid-Autumn Festival. The autumn in Daxing 'anling is dignified, and the wind is mixed with sadness.

In fact, we all call our father uncle. 16' s father and 18-year-old mother have been married for one year and have a big brother. The fortune teller said that children should not call him dad, so they had to change their names to uncle, otherwise they would be called "Fang" dad.

So, we later went to the six brothers and sisters in the world, together with our eldest brother, and we called him uncle all our lives. In fact, in the rural areas of the 1950s and 1960s, it was not unusual to call it that. There are several in almost every village.

However, shouting "uncle" in ignorance still feels a bit awkward, and I always feel that I am shorter than others.

But after all, he is my biological father. With him, I have roots, trees, food, haystacks, sheep and mountains!

I still vaguely remember my father holding my hand and sending me to the primary school in Tunli. It was my father who rode a bicycle and carried me on the beam of the car to the market town and commune health center for medical treatment; It is my father and I who sow, weed and harvest in the fields together. ...

After I was in high school, my father and I rarely met because I lived on campus. Every time we meet, he is carrying half a bag of corn residue or sorghum rice, standing at the school gate with a sad face, secretly holding a classmate and asking him to call me out of the classroom and carry the grain bag on his shoulder.

Slowly took out a few crumpled bills from his underwear pocket, stuffed them into his pocket, muttered "study hard" and hobbled away. ...

I went to study in one city and work in another. I left home and have been wandering.

Away from home, away from my father, it seems that my father and I are always separated by a mountain and a bright moon.

But at that time, I was young and frivolous, I didn't know the pain of missing, I didn't know how fast time passed, and I didn't know how deeply a father cared for his children.

At that time, the wheel of light crushed the ups and downs and rumbled through my childhood in the smoke of the past, only then did I feel how precious the scenery that was gone forever was.

The most time spent with my father was the days when he came to the end of his life. It was also my happiest day, watching my father smile kindly and feeding him milk powder biscuits. I think he fed me this way when I was a child.

Turn him over, give him a fan, and talk to him as if there were endless words ... and this moment is also my saddest moment. My father is lying in bed and can't move. I feel pain gnawing at his body and torturing his spirit all the time. ...

But he endured it and didn't shout pain. He endured a lifetime of suffering, a lifetime of wandering, a lifetime of joys and sorrows ... like a baby without saying a word. This is my father's last performance in Farewell to the World.

My brother and I took turns holding his hand-this is the first time I have held it so hard! These big hands, which gave me strength and caress, are now shriveled and weak, like sunflower stalks stranded in the field after autumn.

I held back my tears, held back the instant gap between Yin and Yang, dressed my father in old clothes, and watched him slowly close his eyes and stop breathing, stopping his sixty-nine years of spring and autumn. ...

Father, think about it. When you come to the mountain city for help, it is already a pear blossom, and the spring is full. You think of your children scattered in many cities and villages, longing for the joy at your knees. Now, the heavy snow that came to Daxinganling early covered the mountains, which was hasty, white and cold. ...

When my father left, I never had my father again. His subtle smile, the malicious words of "study hard, I can sell iron for you to learn", the pleasure of sitting around for dinner, the night that led me to listen to books ... Father, you walked very calmly.

But I know that you deliberately acted calm in order not to make us too sad. You don't want to upset us. ...

On the seventh day, when my family and I went to the funeral home to pay homage to you, I still didn't believe that you really left-you were so strong and tall in my heart. ...

The powerful hand seems to be still stroking my forehead, and his kind eyes seem to be sitting next to me looking at me … But now, father, you have lived in a small box!

Father, son is crying!

In my childhood memory, three things are the deepest: tears, wine and hunger.

The marriage between you and your mother is a tragedy: you studied for six years, which can be regarded as today's "big book" in the village at that time, but your mother who didn't study all day can't even write her own name. Without the same language, you are introverted and your mother is extroverted. So, you chose wine and mom chose tears.

Drink, drinking my father's body; Tears broke my mother's eyes.

However, this pair of boys and girls who lost their father since childhood, although arranged marriage, have gone through 53 years of stumbling and noise.

Half a century of wind and rain, half a century of hand in hand, make our family stronger-father and son, father and son ... until you have a grandson, a big family of more than 30 people, four generations under one roof.

But you died when you should have enjoyed your family!

Father, I can't stop crying!

The saddest thing in life is to send your loved ones away. 13 years ago, my third sister-in-law died in a car accident. My eldest brother was kidnapped by my partner because of a business dispute, and I was also suffering from chronic diseases in my prime ... Every time my family experienced changes, you were much older, but you survived and encouraged my family to move forward strongly!

In order to get the pension that should belong to you, your eldest brother and third brother in Jinghai, Tianjin, regardless of the fatigue of the journey, returned to the place where they used to work, which is also your second hometown, Daxinganling.

Your life is not easy. You should spend your old age in peace. To this end, my wife and I bought a house for you and your mother. By that time, you can walk around on your own. Although you don't talk much, you can still sit by the bed as usual, listen to our chat and watch us leave home.

But in just a few months, your condition has deteriorated, you can't take care of yourself, you can't take care of yourself, you even cry when you watch TV dramas, and you become numb ... Finally, when you are still, you don't absorb it. ...

My wife and I learned that you were ill and rushed to Huzhong from Daqing. I didn't expect you to be terminally ill. Listen to the second sister, you never let him tell me, for fear of delaying work. Because in your heart, I am a promising son, a person who eats public meals, and I will work hard to be worthy of the public!

Lying in the hospital, you are mostly unconscious. However, once I woke up, I opened my eyes, as if looking for something in the room. We ask who you want to see, from big brother to little brother to granddaughter and niece. Again, you shook your head. Speaking of mother, a tear suddenly fell from the corner of my eye, and you nodded hard.

Because we were afraid that our mother would be tired and sad, our brothers and sisters took turns to take care of her in the hospital and refused to let her go to the hospital to accompany her.

I heard you wanted to see her. My mother rushed to the hospital in spite of the heavy rain outside and the autumn chill. She held your hand and cried ... and naturally said to herself, "old ghost, it's time to enjoy yourself." Why not? "

You have to hold on, my children bought us a new building, even if you survive this winter, I will wait on you! "

You nodded and the tears came down.

On the day of father's burial, unit leaders and good friends came from thousands of miles away to attend the funeral. I feel a warmth in my grief.

I specially wrote a eulogy of less than 1000 words for my father. Mr. Wang stood in front of his father's spirit and read. Everyone was crying-

Qin Baifang was born in Ningxiaoputun, Pingchuan Brigade, Changchun Commune, Bayan County, Heilongjiang Province, in June 194 1. /kloc-joined the China * * * production party at the age of 0/6.

He used to be the accountant of Pingchuan Brigade of Changchun Commune in Bayan County, the stationmaster of Changchun Commune Veterinary Station, and was transferred to Huzhong Plumbing Team in Daxinganling, Heilongjiang Province as a warehouse worker in the spring of 1985.

Qin baifang, an old man, listened to the party and was an honest man all his life. No matter what position he holds, he is meticulous and conscientious, leaving a good reputation.

Old Man Qin White and his wife have seven children. Under extremely difficult family conditions, they scrimped and saved for their children to study.

Qin Baifang, an old man, is charitable and kind to others. He would rather suffer by himself than help those who want him. His old man has never quarreled with relatives, friends, village neighbors or even passers-by, and has never even blushed. Everyone who knows him says: He is a good man!

Qin Baifang, an old man, sets an example, respects the elders and cares for the younger generation. He never bows his head when dealing with difficulties. No matter how hard it is, he will carry it himself. There is a big grievance, and he will bear it himself!

Qin Baifang's life is a very ordinary life, but also a very hard life.

Qin Baifang's attitude towards life will always be priceless to the younger generation!

……

Father, as a good man, are you really alive in heaven? We have prepared almost all the sacrifices for you, except a house. The night you died, my sister was still driving back on the train. You gave her a dream, but you still said calmly: You have to prepare a house for me. ...

Yes, father, in the decades you have been running around, you have given all those old houses that were knocked down like swallow nests to your children, and in the end you have no house of your own. You didn't like the house your son bought for you for a few days. We should give you a fixed place to live, so that you won't wander again. ...

As the "eldest son" who sent you the last journey, I will pretend to be strong. But father, at the last moment when my son sent you, my son really couldn't be strong. That feeling is like a knife digging my heart!

Tears can't stop, I cried.

Don't worry, father! I will closely unite with my brothers and sisters and take care of my mother, just like you.

Maybe you really don't want to leave us, maybe you can't let go of the bitter world and pay homage to your "snake". A butterfly wandered in and surprised everyone present. At this time, the outdoor temperature in Daxinganling has dropped to MINUS 10 degrees. How did butterflies appear? !

Have you become a butterfly?

Snow is coming, just like a beautiful spirit, laying a clean layer on the mountains and rivers.

I believe this is your soul flying! This is also the comfortable life you yearn for, and the background color of your simple and low-key ordinary life.