1. Composition of 600 words about listening to mother talk about the past

The moon passed through the white lotus-like clouds, and bursts of happy songs came from the evening breeze. We sat high Next to the tall grain pile, I listened to my mother talk about the past.

Whenever I hear my mother hum this song, she always mentions her past events to me.

My mother said that the only street food they ate at that time was marshmallows, candied haws, and popcorn; the street culture only consisted of wheat stacks, Huanan brand car clothes machines and old wine shops; the classic olive seeds, Hopscotch, ring rolling and doll shooting games; singing classic old songs "Listen to Mom Talk about the Past", "My Motherland", "On the Golden Mountain in Beijing", "Nanniwan" and "The Sun's Reddest Hair" The Chairman is Dearest".

Although time has passed, the classic life has always remained in my mother's heart.

My mother also said that she missed the old veterans performing theatrical performances on the streets. Whenever there was a program, my mother and her brothers and sisters would go to the streets with stools and sit on them, clapping and applauding while watching. When they were young, they ate porridge and side dishes, and only had one or two meals of meat a week. When they ate meat, they had to cut the small piece of meat into several pieces and share it with the whole family.

However, when eating meat, the whole family was very happy and lively. You and I had to eat each piece; the clothes we wore were torn and had several small holes sewn on them. We still have to keep wearing them; many families have no money to send their children to school, and some children who can go to school have no money to buy notebooks. The homework books are written and erased, and some are erased.

When my mother was a child, she would get up at around 4 o'clock in the morning. She and her brothers and sisters would make breakfast, feed chickens and pigs, fertilize, and then go to school after breakfast. The road to school is a narrow and small mountain road.

Mom said: "It's a pity that you don't study hard even though you have such good learning conditions now. We didn't know how much we looked forward to studying, even for one class."

Alas, you. ”

The moon looks particularly bright against the backdrop of white lotus-like clouds. The evening breeze accompanied us, sitting next to the tall grain pile, listening to my mother talk about the past. 2. Composition of 600 words: Listening to Mom Talk About the Past

The moon passed through the white lotus-like clouds, and bursts of happy songs came from the evening wind. We sat next to the tall grain piles and listened. Mom talks about the past.

Whenever I hear my mother hum this song, she always mentions her past events to me.

My mother said that the only street food they ate at that time was marshmallows, candied haws, and popcorn; the street culture only consisted of wheat stacks, Huanan brand car clothes machines and old wine shops; the classic olive seeds, Hopscotch, ring rolling and doll shooting games; singing classic old songs "Listen to Mom Talk about the Past", "My Motherland", "On the Golden Mountain in Beijing", "Nanniwan" and "The Sun's Reddest Hair" The Chairman is Dearest".

Although time has passed, the classic life has always remained in my mother's heart.

My mother also said that she missed the old veterans performing theatrical performances on the streets. Whenever there was a program, my mother and her brothers and sisters would go to the streets with stools and sit on them, clapping and applauding while watching. When they were young, they ate porridge and side dishes, and only had one or two meals of meat a week. When they ate meat, they had to cut the small piece of meat into several pieces and share it with the whole family.

However, when eating meat, the whole family was very happy and lively. You and I had to eat each piece; the clothes we wore were torn, and we had to continue wearing them with several small holes sewn; there were many Families have no money to send their children to school, and some children who can go to school have no money to buy notebooks. The homework books are written and erased, and some are erased.

When my mother was a child, she would get up at around 4 o'clock in the morning. She and her brothers and sisters would make breakfast, feed chickens and pigs, fertilize, and then go to school after breakfast. The road to school is a narrow and small mountain road.

My mother said: "It's a pity that you don't study hard even though you have such good learning conditions now. We didn't know how much we looked forward to studying, even for one class."

Alas, you. ”

The moon looks particularly bright against the backdrop of white lotus-like clouds. The evening breeze accompanied us, sitting next to the tall grain pile, listening to my mother talk about the past. 3. Help me write an essay, "Listening to Elders Telling Stories from the Past"

"In that era, your grandma and I lived in poverty!" Under the long ivy trellis, the greenery was shady. Yes, grandpa was lying on a rocking chair, swaying gently. The bamboo chair was also old, and it made a "squeaky" sound with the shaking. I sat on the small stool, ^-^ looking at grandpa, quietly Listening to him tell stories about the past...

It has been many years since my grandma left us, and my grandpa seems to have been silent for many years. In my few memories, he seems to have never said a few words and insisted on not saying anything. Ken moved to live with us, but stayed alone in the old house. My mother and father often took me to visit him, and I was afraid of going to that place. Because the house is so accomplished, the furniture always seems to have a pungent smell. The corner of the wall was also very cold and damp. I always felt that it was so dark and rotten. As a child, how could I want to stay in this place with the sun behind me?

In my vague memory, I don’t know how many times I have seen my grandfather smile. When the corners of his mouth rise, they will inevitably affect the deep wrinkles on his face. At this time, his face looks particularly vicissitudes of life. . It’s not just when, grandpa seems to have changed and started to like me. He was always willing to give me a few small candies when I was forced to go to his place, hold my little hand and lie on the rocking chair, and tell me stories about the past. He said: "Your grandma and I had a very hard time. He was The eldest daughter of a wealthy family had little hardship, but had read many books. I was just a poor boy who worked in her family. I loved reading, but I couldn't afford books, so I always went to school secretly. She looked into her room full of books. Soon, she discovered it, then opened the door, gave me an unexpected but very gentle look, and asked me to go in and look at it together.

I felt sleepy listening to his long and complicated story, but the weakness revealed in my grandfather's resolute eyes was ignored because I was too young. I was bored and I couldn't understand my grandfather. story, so I was particularly interested in his long beard...

By the time he finished telling it, I had already lost my patience, so I even slept on his lap a few times. It's over. Maybe he will look at me and let out a long sigh, maybe he will kindly sing a song that only grandma can know...

I have grown up, become more sensible, and have less time. When I understood my grandfather's deep and undisclosed emotions and wanted to do something for him, he became silent again. I lost the opportunity to relieve his loneliness. I wanted to make up for it, but I missed the opportunity.

Occasionally, when I can finally squeeze out some time in my busy schedule, and my grandpa is in a very good mood, I will be patient, sit in front of him with a small stool, and listen carefully. He tells a story about the past that he rarely tells:

“...After that, your grandma and I fell in love. But her parents were unwilling to marry her to a pauper. So we escaped and started from scratch. She went from a wealthy woman to a woman who had to do all the housework herself, and she suffered a lot of pain and suffering.

I love her very much, feel sorry for her, and feel sorry for her, but in the end when she left, I didn't even have the courage to say 'I'm sorry'..."

Looking up at my grandfather, that look in his eyes Along with the sadness and guilt revealed in the story, a deep love...

I was moved, and listening to my grandpa’s stories about the past became a kind of yearning... 4. We are going to write "Listen to..." Composition "Mom Tells About the Past".

This topic is very simple. You can write about maternal love or some mother's spirit. But don't write too much, just focus on one type, otherwise it will become unfocused. , the composition is not worth it. When writing this kind of composition, don’t just tell the mother his story. Don’t just talk about it. It would be better to include some descriptions of the environment or the mother’s demeanor, or write about the conversation between you and her~ The beginning is to foreshadow, You can write the reason why you tell the story, and then slowly filter it down to the content of the story. This is the middle part of the first paragraph, which is what I just said, the content. Describe or have a conversation, and use it yourself. The end is the realization, and some points. Question, for example. (After a lot of reasoning) I didn’t expect that my mother has such valuable spiritual qualities. I hope it can help you. This is also the structure of writing a narrative composition. It is not only useful for this composition, but also for other things. The same is true for this. This is what the teacher told us. You should be good at writing the essay according to this. Try it. I also wrote according to this idea. The essay was good and won the award. 5. The title of the essay I am looking for is. Listen

The moon hangs high in the sky, passing through the white lotus-like clouds. The moon is like the smile on my mother's face at this time, pure and flawless in the evening breeze. Blowing and blowing, waves of sweet singing came from the distant horizon. The singing, like the sound of a flute, played a happy song. You can also contribute to Xiaohe Composition Network