1 "Who are you calling rude? I'm having a good talk with you. This is the last time I calmly advise you. If you dare to owe again, just pack up and get ready to leave! "
The originally quiet noon was smoked by the smoke next door. I gathered in front of the door and watched the tense contest between the landlord and the tenant through the cat's eye. "Tut tut, what's that smell? That's disgusting. Why don't you take a bath? By the way, you haven't paid a penny for utilities! "
Uncle Wang next door is a tenant here. There are three children at home. The situation can only be described as difficult. The couple are trying to support a family of five. Uncle Wang is an oil refinery worker. The treatment in the refinery is one point higher than that in the ordinary factory, but at the same time, it also mercilessly left a problem for Uncle Wang-he has a bad smell. Every time I passed him, I just received his warm greetings, and my nose was slapped by the strong wind like a thin whip behind me. This smell, mixed with sweat and sour taste after hard work, is full of pungent smell of oil residue, and there are many other strange smells of unknown origin, which cannot be described as disgusting. I can't even imagine what it's like to live with an oil drum in his house every day.
Even so, Uncle Wang never dislikes others pointing at him. Whenever someone stabbed him in the face with strange eyes, he always smiled with confidence. No matter how vicious he is, he is always so cheerful: "Nothing, this is also a testimony of our work, which shows that my money was extracted with my hands!" " "
It is such an optimistic and cheerful uncle Wang who gradually supports his family and occasionally hums a tune next door.
Uncle Wang's taste conquered everyone, and he corrected his name with his own actions: if the neighbor had problems, Uncle Wang walked easily. Whether it's an old iron gate or a rotten water pipe, it's just a piece of cake for Wang Shu. "This person is very enthusiastic." "This buddy is really good!" This kind of praise gradually appeared.
The burden of life gradually eased on his shoulders, and the landlord who put down his malicious words never came again. The neighborhood gradually accepted him, and the once disgusting smell seemed to be diluted by years, covered up by his enthusiasm, evaporated by his confidence, and no longer felt pungent.
"I miss your kindness, your coat, your white socks, and your smell." I don't know whose music is so loud, and the moving music echoes in the corridor. The pungent smell of gasoline is a testimony to hard life. The smell of sweat is so practical that life is full of sunshine!
I don't know when there was a boy's name in my diary, a strange and familiar figure in my dream, and a position in my heart …
I met him on a spring evening, and the sunset glow dyed the sky red, giving people a quiet beauty. I take a leisurely walk on the school playground. Just when I felt this wonderful moment with my heart, a basketball came into my sight unscrupulously. It seems to have rolled off the basketball court. Out of kindness, I picked up the basketball and took it to the basketball court. A boy in a red uniform took the ball from me and smiled and said, "Thank you." From that moment on, his smile was printed in my mind. ...
Later, I learned his name from a friend, and later, his name became a common word in my diary. I didn't tell anyone the secret, I just kept it in my heart.
I didn't often go out of the classroom before recess, but now after class, I will stand in the corridor and look for him on the playground; Walking on the road, I will expect him to pass by me. Every time I think of his smile that night, my face will be filled with happiness and my heart will beat faster for no reason. The more I miss him, the less time I have to study. ...
In this way, a year passed unconsciously. One night, everything came back to life and I gradually fell asleep. I thought I would have a good dream and meet him in my dream, but the dream was not as beautiful as I imagined. In my dream, I was holding a notice that I failed in the senior high school entrance examination, and my scores in the senior high school entrance examination were unbearable, followed by parents' reproachful eyes, teachers' disappointed eyes and classmates' mocking eyes. There is also a terrible voice: "You asked for it all. Who told you to spend all your thoughts on him and neglect your studies? You deserve it ... ""No, don't! " I was awakened.
At breakfast, my sister gave me a fruit and said with a smile that spring is coming again. Let me taste the taste of spring. In spring, the fruit is not yet mature, and the skin is still blue. I took a bite and it didn't taste good. It's astringent and a little hard to swallow. Suddenly, I seem to remember something. ...
I woke up, and I no longer paid attention to him deliberately, and my life returned to its former calm.
Spring has passed and summer has come again. When I sat in the examination room and successfully answered the paper, the bitterness of spring slipped from my memory, reminding me that autumn fruits can't be picked in spring.
This is a taste that will never change from the bottom of my heart. Take a sip, it will fill my heart with sweetness.
Summer, old house.
When I was a child, every summer vacation, I would appear at the entrance to the village on time. At this time, there will always be an old couple waiting for me to go home.
I like here, like the environment here, like the carefree life here. Every time I go here, grandma always takes my hand and comes to the pond in front of the hut. He went to pick lotus with a basket on his shoulder. Because, I like to eat the lotus seed cake made by my grandmother, and I like the sweet taste.
There is a boat by the pond. My grandmother will carry me to the boat first, and then get on the boat slowly by herself. I sat on the boat, quietly looking at the lotus in the pond, while my grandmother stood at the bow, supporting pennies. After a while, it will be full of lotus flowers. Back to the old house, grandma put on an apron and stood by the pool carefully washing the lotus flowers. Then, at both ends of my right hand, a stool was placed in the middle of the yard. I sat on that stool, quietly watching the whole process of grandma making lotus seed cakes. Put a lotus flower in the center of your left hand, put a little meat sauce in your right hand with a spoon, then put a roll of lotus petals in the batter prepared in advance with your dexterous hands, seal it around, and finally put them in the oil pan one by one. The fragrance will slowly overflow the whole old house. I like the smell of waiting.
After the lotus seed cakes are made, grandma will squint, put all these lotus seed cakes on the plate and put some lotus petals around the plate, which is both beautiful and delicious. My mouth is watering. My grandmother always smiles and lights the tip of my nose and shouts "little greedy cat" when she sees my mind. Then I took a piece with chopsticks and carefully blew it into my mouth. I just feel crunchy and full of sweetness. This smell makes me attached.
Now I am nervous about my studies, so I have no time to visit my grandparents in the countryside. Of course, I have no intention to think about the lotus seed cake that once brought me endless joy and beauty. But in summer, my grandmother always appears at the entrance of our community with an insulated lunch box in her hand, just like I appear at the entrance of the village on time. I always smile and run over, holding grandma's rough hand and walking home. When I got home, in my expectant eyes, my grandmother opened the lunch box, and a familiar smell overflowed the restaurant and my heart. Take a sip. It still smells like that.
I like the smell. It's like tasting a cup of fragrant tea, with endless aftertaste and lingering fragrance.
The smell of the third grade composition 4 has been blown by the wind, bringing freshness and floral fragrance; After the heavy rain, it brought coolness, mixed with the smell of earth. A person's life, sometimes like a gust of wind, sometimes like a rain, but always full of dreams.
Dreams taste sweet. My dream is big or small. My dream is to be a designer, because I like building blocks since I was a child. In the world of building blocks, I can build my own castle and dream in my own castle.
Dreams taste a little bitter. But my dream is not difficult to say, and it is not easy to say. I know that the premise of realizing my dream must be to study hard and get into a good university. This dream of mine is different from others' and needs unique thinking and innovative ability. Therefore, the "castle" I built is unique. I seldom follow the instructions, thinking that people always have to learn to go their own way. Whenever I have time, I often go to various toy stores with this dream. This dream of mine was almost killed in the cradle. When I was a child, my mother always thought I was wasting my time. She always said: Young people don't work hard, but old people are sad. Playing with building blocks is useless to her. However, when I conquered her one by one, she was dumbfounded and reluctantly agreed. So every time I make a new work, I always show it to my mother and ask her to give me some advice and keep innovating. There is no best, only better, my best work is always next.
The taste of dreams sometimes becomes tasteless. Life is long and dreams are doomed to be far away. There is a lyric that says: dreams are always out of reach, "I don't believe it." Although, on the way to taste the dream, sometimes it is tasteless, sometimes it is confused, and sometimes it even wants to give up. But how can you see the rainbow without experiencing the wind and rain, or perhaps "those who can't come wholeheartedly" can "have no regrets", thinking that the taste of dreams has penetrated into their hearts all the way.
That's what dreams taste like. Only when you have tasted bitterness will you know how to cherish sweetness. Only when you taste the sweetness will you have the motivation to continue. Only when you taste tasteless can you taste the last sweetness. Because dreams have a taste, they will guide you when you are confused; Encourage you to stand up when you fall; When you are ready to give up, let you stick to it. My dream of speaking slowly. It thrives and exudes a unique flavor, and it also gives me the ambition of "one day, I will ride the wind and waves, sail straight up and cross the deep sea". Even if "the road is long and Xiu Yuan is Xi, and Xiu Yuan is Xi", "I will go up and down".
Five years ago, near ancient times, I folded a paper boat and let it go upstream in the river of time, which aroused the foam of youth and floated like a dream.
The bitterness of fragrance and mixture comes to your face, and you can only smell youth when it is frosted. Yes, it's bitter.
How many times have you stayed up all night feeling sleepy? Sometimes it's just a farewell compliment How many times I sweat, I still look high-spirited, in order to avoid being laughed at when I meet the standards. If youth is the bearing, then the will to win is the interlocking gear. They are interdependent and more complementary, but every friction is too uncomfortable-just to be smoother and more dazzling.
Of course it's bitter. I may never forget the glory and bitterness brought by Chinese dictation. From the present Han Dynasty to the ancient Han Dynasty, from the ancient Han Dynasty to the idiom dictionary, and then from the idiom dictionary to countless materials, I have made no less efforts than others-but I will never forget the cold palm when I stepped down, and the step on the stage became a broken step. The heart seems to be squeezed tightly. At that moment, sadness flowed all over the body, but the next second turned into an undercurrent, soothing one gap after another-at a loss-helplessness. Acid is also the taste of youth, but it is more like a shot in the arm. It's a long way to go, Xiu Yuan. Where would you go without it?
However, there is always sweetness. The endless encounter in youth is the best choice to cherish each other, and classmates are the sowers of happiness and warmth. Maybe it's a few crowded heads hiding under the same umbrella; Or cross the finish line with your teeth behind your back; Maybe it's a gossip smile in the beautiful scenery of jade and gold; Or a greeting you hear when you rub your hands.
Life is not full of happiness and sadness, but in every gap, there is always such a scene repeated. Someone will help you up when you fall; Someone gives you encouragement when you are laughed at; Someone refutes for you when you are falsely accused; When you are sick in bed, some people worry about you-they flow quietly in your passive situation, flow into your heart, heat every ounce of blood, and then silently spread this sweetness to all parts of your body until your body is crisp ... won't this make you full of hope?
Fold a paper boat while you are young and let it flow along the river of time, leaving a pure and brilliant impression, such as poetry and song. Break up one by one. Sweetness is mixed with bitterness, and the smell of youth is full of hope.
My thoughts danced with the melody, but my soft and desolate feeling caught my heart. My eyes fell on the old man along the spotlight, and my thin cheeks were deep, indicating that years had taken away his good old days. The narrow shoulders don't match the straight black suit, and there seems to be dust falling on it.
It's still those long-repaired hands, whose joints are more prominent because they are thin, playing skillfully on the black and white keys, and their expressions seem to be immersed in music. I was fascinated by him, unsmiling and determined, just like a handsome samurai in ukiyo-e, with his brow showing that he abandoned all desires and distractions, and his masculine beauty followed his lifelong belief.
But there is only this peaceful and kind old man in front of me. I don't want to say goodbye for decades. Does the frost on the sideburns bear too many sighs?
At the end of the song, he opened his eyes, those eyes! There is not a trace of turbidity in my memory. The wind and rain of the years washed away the high spirits of his young eyebrows, engraved the rings of the years, but left his charm.
He bowed to the audience, his straight legs never unyielding, and he bowed in a right-angled Japanese style. He buried his head deeply, and his undisguised silver hair poured down like a waterfall in the spotlight flashing the light of day.
Then, another song began. It was this song that made him successful. My heart is no longer willing to be quiet and begins to make violent waves. The waves kept going step by step and gradually became thin drums. I put my hand on my heart and felt the vitality of generate in an instant, which was wonderful.
The crisp sound of the piano is like a little star walking slowly on a distant mountain. The light melody and the long violin accompaniment make me listen with low eyebrows. The leisurely low pressure brings everyone into sorrow, just like a white chrysanthemum placed in front of the grave of a deceased relative, and the dew in the morning stretches its branches and leaves in the slight cold wind.
This is Ryotaro Sakamoto's Asian concert tour. He composed these music in his twenties and thirties, and then retired. I have seen him before in early movies and albums. Seeing him again will be the year of hanging the grave.
Year after year, after years of suffering, he has no regrets. This is the taste of time. Stay young and energetic.
The rising sun only comes once a day, and the golden full moon only comes once a month. Flowers are in full bloom only once a year, but in grade three, we only have one. ...
-Preface
Waving goodbye to the naive second day, we entered a calm third day. Carrying the schoolbag of grade three, we will find ourselves more mature and less naive; One more action, one less fantasy, one more ideal, responsibility and vision. ...
In the second day of junior high school, we wrote romance into our lives. On lonely days, we love to cry, laugh, shout and scream; On happy days, we revel and dance wildly. But now, nothing belongs to us. In the hurried footsteps, I looked at the freshmen in military training on the playground-I shook my head and left. Yes, all this has long gone forever in the long river of time. What we are facing now is just the chemical formula on the blackboard, the geometric figure of a problem and countless ABC……
Into the classroom, three feet platform, the teacher with wise eyes to guide us-grade three. On the other hand, the teacher taught us the third grade with fluent words. During recess, there are fewer students who talk about heaven and earth, and more diligent students who have problems; On the court, students are less eloquent and scratch their heads when thinking about problems. ...
Steady mountains, smart streams, boundless fields and quiet forests. Everything in nature seems to be isolated from us. Under the bitter rain and lonely lamp, we also have the same disappointment with the past as Bing Xin. However, a few months of junior high school life has calmed the hearts of the students in that class. In the face of overwhelming test papers, there is less swearing of "flowers and witty remarks, only flying snow all over the sky" and more cliché that "it is the true nature of men to guard against arrogance and rashness". Perhaps it is in the teacher's constant "nagging" that "ignorance" finally opens our eyes-everything has a price.
The ballet dancer's graceful dance was replaced by deformed feet; The exquisiteness and perfection of butterfly wings is at the expense of its own smallness. The leaning tower of Pisa is world-famous, at the cost of its long-term tilt. Similarly, the excellent results of the senior high school entrance examination have paid our sweat and efforts now, but we are not afraid of the price, because life itself is a bargaining chip, and we face fairness and unfairness with gratitude. When we harvest, only we can understand the price we pay. ...
I still remember this passage: the third day is coffee, which contains a strong fragrance in bitterness; The third day is the ninth day, which is exciting and passionate; The third day is sweet juice, refreshing and delicious. Perhaps, the third grade is more like a strange bean with all kinds of flavors. ...
What's the taste of hometown? It's the dark wine brewed at home, the moonlight full of sadness, and the red maple as red as blood. These smells are vigorous, cold or blazing, but they all have similarities-they all have our own feelings, that is, missing our hometown. China people will never forget this emotion, and no matter where they live, they will never forget the sigh caused by the full moon nightclub.
The flavor of my hometown remains the deepest in my heart, which is the noodles cooked by my grandmother. Because of rural background, grandma always carries the simplicity, diligence and wisdom of farmers. A spoonful of white flour mixed with water under her hand can always present various patterns. When I was a child, I watched my grandmother flexibly knead a small dough into a ball in her hand and put it on the chopping board, which had already become a flower roll. I couldn't help being surprised at that time. I squatted on the chopping board and watched my grandma knead the little dough one by one. I asked my grandmother, "Grandma, how did you do it?" Why so fast? "Grandma squatted down with a smile, grabbed my face, and then smiled and said to me in Shaanxi dialect," It will take a long time. Why, do you want to learn? "
I nodded my head. Grandma gave me a small piece of noodles and told me, "You roll this piece of noodles first, then twist it, and the two halves will stick together." But I don't know if I misunderstood or if my grandmother's hands were too fast. I haven't learned to roll flowers yet, but my grandmother's ingenuity left a deep impression on me. From then on, every time grandma came into the kitchen, I always followed. When I look at those long noodles, I always admire them. Because whenever I see grandma cooking in the kitchen, the sound made by the rolling pin when rolling noodles and the instant when noodles enter the water when they are below are very rhythmic and rhythmic, which makes me more and more fascinated by grandma's busy voice in the kitchen. So as soon as grandma enters the kitchen, a small figure will follow her like a follower.
Later, I went to Xi 'an with my parents because of school, and the traffic was full of prosperity. But when I first entered this city, I couldn't sleep. I'm used to the tranquility and leisure of small counties. I was still a little scared and uneasy about the traffic passing by at night, so I couldn't sleep all night and even thought of my grandmother in my hometown. That feeling is a kind of loneliness, panic and helplessness. In addition, in this era of mechanization and modernization, although the food in the city makes me feel dazzling, there is always a feeling of lack. Now I think it should be the leisurely maturity in the field, and it is always not as delicious as the pasta cooked by grandma.
Perhaps this is the taste of my hometown, the taste of grandma's cooking, and the taste in my memory. It is so simple, warm and beautiful. ...
At 9 hours, the taste of loneliness is full of fear.
At that time, lonely time was a long wait, waiting for the moment when you were not lonely. A person stays in an empty house, trying not to look at the strange shadow of the coat rack, ignoring the floor that sometimes rings suddenly, and trembling to draw reassuring things on paper with the brightest watercolor pen color, trying to drive away the fear that is growing every minute. My IQ is not high, but my imagination grows wildly in loneliness, which makes me completely hate the taste of loneliness.
When I grow up, the taste of loneliness is too monotonous.
At that time, my personality was quite lively, and I was looking forward to the lively little world where everyone got together all day. Lonely and quiet places can't satisfy noisy souls. Being alone makes me feel bored or even left out, and the voice of my friends outside the window tickles my heart. The feeling of loneliness is like a clean blank sheet of paper, simple and boring, and people don't know how to deal with it, so I try to stay away from it.
But in fact, because it is a blank sheet of paper, people can be thick, light and wonderful. With a little modification, the taste of loneliness is completely different. But unfortunately, I am almost a nerd who can't even hold the pen that changes all this.
When it is more mature, the lonely taste is like chewing walnut kernel, which lasts for a long time.
I learned to listen more and talk less, watch carefully and do seriously. I learned to be an independent individual and get used to the loneliness that followed. I studied this paper with new eyes and tried to taste this walnut. This taste may be unpleasant and astringent, but it can make me think quietly.
Now, loneliness tastes like mint that makes people feel at ease and quiet.
I gradually found that only when I am lonely can my ears and heart get a real rest. It tastes quiet and can relax me. After a busy day, it is a rare experience to stay quietly for a while and think about what you like. Especially at present, even in the next three years, it is an extravagant hope to savor that loneliness.
Only a small part of life is lonely, and that part of me grows up slowly in loneliness, with calmness that other parts of me don't have. I would like to take this opportunity to calm down and remember the taste of loneliness for thousands of days, so as to meet the challenges in the future calmly.
What is happiness? Happiness is a cup of hot tea in the cold winter. Happiness is the greetings and blessings of family and friends. Happiness is the teacher's encouragement and support; Happiness is a quilt my mother added to you in the dead of winter. I often feel that I am always filled with happiness, surrounded by happiness and moved.
When I was a child, I felt happy when I saw others holding snacks and making the sound of "Katz Katz" in their mouths. When I grow up, I think it is happiness to see that other people's exam results are ideal. Now, I think happiness is everywhere: living in 2 1 century, born in such a warm and harmonious family, many people care about me ... I think this is happiness.
Happiness is not necessarily a big event, but can also be felt in small things. A quilt can also make people feel surrounded by happiness!
One winter night, I was still desperately doing my homework. The pendulum clock at home struck twelve, when my homework had just been finished. I looked at my parents, and when their room was closed, I turned off the lights and went to bed. When I was sleepy, I heard the door of my room open. A man came to my bed, looked at me, gently covered me with the quilt I kicked off, and found another quilt to cover me slowly. I felt abnormal. I narrowed my eyes in a daze and saw that it was my mother. Those rough hands were covering me with a quilt and kept yawning. I saw her wearing pink pajamas, messy hair and a sleepy face. After looking at me, she left trembling.
After seeing the back of my mother tucking the quilt for me, my tears soon flowed down and I thought to myself: What a loving mother!
What a careful mother!
In this cold winter night, everyone else slept soundly, but she was worried about the child, afraid that the child would catch cold and get sick, and took the trouble to cover me with a quilt in the middle of the night. This scene has left an eternal mark in my heart!
This is happiness!
A seemingly ordinary little thing has an extraordinary effect. In fact, there are countless such small things, and countless such small things have made great mothers and great maternal love. Clap your hands when you are happy, stamp your feet when you are happy, and sing loudly when you are happy!
Praise your loving mother and great mother!