The past is like sand in the leakage, which never comes back. It's so romantic but sad. Why do our memories just disappear like sand? I can only watch it disappear bit by bit in my hand. It is so helpless, but what can I do? I want to catch it, but there is nothing I can do.

Well, that's it. Looking at the memories in the hourglass faintly.

2 the hourglass of memories

One day, I finally found that I will grow up. The wings are getting full. The girl standing in the yard, blowing colorful bubbles at the towel gourd rack, has been lost; The bicycle rider was very unskilled, and he fell down on the mound with his bicycle, and the whole person became a girl in periophthalmus, which could not be found. The girl who was called "bug" or "salted fish" by her classmates and had a smirk on her face could not be found. But at the same time, I'm still so nostalgic. I open my diary and remember the past vividly.

Memories are like hourglasses. Every time I hear the pure music "The Hourglass of Memories", the familiar and unfamiliar melody always reminds me of nostalgia more or less.

My favorite doll as a child has disappeared now. I don't know whether it was given away or discarded. Fortunately, I once described it in my diary. It's cute and exquisitely made. It wears a wide-brimmed sun hat, and its brown wool hair is woven into a braided hair. A small purple skirt is covered with small broken flowers, and its small feet are covered with beige shoes. My aunt gave it to me. Now, she is used to the fast-paced life abroad, and she has come and gone in a hurry when she returns to China several times. I don't know why she left and what the causal relationship is. I have never seen my aunt off, just imagining that with the low roar, the plane crossed a dazzling white line in the sky. Occasionally, I will look at the things left by my aunt with ecstasy, and I wonder if they can perceive my aunt's return and departure.

In the summer vacation when I was fourteen years old, I went to the jewelry store called "Haibeier" for the first time alone. It was a wonderful trip. I cowered in front of the jewelry rack, but I was not willing to return empty-handed.

Lucky grass necklace, small and exquisite four-leaf clover is sealed in resin as thin as cicada's wings. I just looked up and didn't prepare for luxury once.

I took a head buckle and a pair of hair clips from the rack. The head buckle is a butterfly, and its sky-blue wings are criss-crossed with dreamy agate-like lines. Each wing is neatly inlaid with green rhinestones without lakes, flashing strange light. The hairpin is a pair of small pink-purple strawberries with beige and rose rhinestones mixed with tiny sequins. These are just two childish and clumsy ornaments, which have long been damaged. They are really my treasures at that time.

In my previous dreams, there was often a strange scent of osmanthus fragrantly lingering around me, as if dried apricots were pickled with honey and white sugar, sweet and sour, refreshing and slightly moist.

Talking like a song, the scenery is like a dream. I tried to repair my broken memories and broken dreams with broken words, but I found it really difficult. The past, faded and faded in my mind, leaving only some scattered puzzles in the end. It seems that only by writing it out will I feel at ease; It seems that only by writing it down can some stories be preserved intact.

I began to try to write novels at the age of 14 or 15, but I worked very hard until my arm ached, only to find that the preface of the sentence was inconsistent and the plot was difficult to justify. Those novels eventually died halfway and I threw them into the bottom of the drawer.

We always have to grow up, and growing up is really not that terrible. Writing on and on may just be a way to witness and remember growth. The hourglass of memories, memories are like hourglasses, and we have come all the way.

3 the hourglass of memories

I have lived in this school for four years, but I have gone. There are my happy memories, bumpy memories and the time that has passed in a hurry in the past four years. Here, both serious teachers and kind classmates are worthy of my nostalgia. I still remember the lush green trees there, the vermilion walls there, and the birds that wake us up with songs every morning. Once I think of these, a familiar picture emerges in my mind.

Now, I have returned to Hangzhou, ready to reunite with you. Autumn wind carries our memories and brings harvest autumn, takes away the freshness of spring and the coolness of autumn. But does she take away your's memories and bring brand-new memories? Do you still remember me? Remember once there was a long-winded monitor who struggled for the class all day? I'm coming to you quietly. Maybe I've completely changed. You'll be surprised, but I'm still the monitor who used to worry and fuck all day and put the interests of the class first.

Have you had a good time this year? What happened? Would you like to tell me again?

4 the hourglass of memories

Childhood notebooks are full of pure handwriting. The small words written by the pencil, the lovely and childish skewed words, gave me infinite thinking; What is displayed in front of me is not an ugly font, but pure and beautiful memories.

It was a wonderful and happy time of childhood; The girl sitting in the last row appeared in the confused eyes. She was holding a pencil in her little hand and marking it word by word, looking out of the window again and again. When I was a child, too many memories and too many fantasies were unforgettable.

5 the hourglass of memories

Memories are like hourglasses. The pure music "The Hourglass of Memories" always reminds me of infinite memories ...

My favorite doll as a child has disappeared now. I don't know whether it was given away or discarded. Fortunately, I once described it in my diary. It's cute and exquisitely made. It wears a wide-brimmed sun hat, and its brown wool hair is woven into a braided hair. A small purple skirt is covered with small broken flowers, and its small feet are covered with beige shoes. My aunt gave it to me. Now, she is used to the fast-paced life abroad, and she has come and gone in a hurry when she returns to China several times. I don't know why she left and what the causal relationship is. I have never seen my aunt off, just imagining that with the low roar, the plane crossed a dazzling white line in the sky. Occasionally, I will look at the things left by my aunt with ecstasy, and I wonder if they can perceive my aunt's return and departure.

In the summer vacation when I was fourteen years old, I went to the jewelry store called "Haibeier" for the first time alone. It was a wonderful trip. I cowered in front of the jewelry rack, but I was not willing to return empty-handed.

Lucky grass necklace, small and exquisite four-leaf clover is sealed in resin as thin as cicada's wings. I just looked up and didn't prepare for luxury once.

I took a head buckle and a pair of hair clips from the rack. The head buckle is a butterfly, and its sky-blue wings are criss-crossed with dreamy agate-like lines. Each wing is neatly inlaid with green rhinestones without lakes, flashing strange light. The hairpin is a pair of small pink-purple strawberries with beige and rose rhinestones mixed with tiny sequins. These are just two childish and clumsy ornaments, which have long been damaged. They are really my treasures at that time.

In my previous dreams, there was often a strange scent of osmanthus, as if dried apricots were pickled with honey and sugar, sweet and sour, refreshing and slightly moist.

Talking like a song, the scenery is like a dream. I tried to repair my broken memories and broken dreams with broken words, but I found it really difficult. The past, faded and faded in my mind, leaving only some scattered puzzles in the end. It seems that only by writing it out will I feel at ease; It seems that only by writing it down can some stories be preserved intact.

Memories are like hourglasses, and the past is like sand in the leakage, which is gone forever. I can only watch it disappear bit by bit in my hand. It is so helpless, but what can I do? I want to catch it, but there is nothing I can do. Well, that's it.

6 the hourglass of memories

How much strength is hidden behind laughter and comfort, and how much sadness is there?

-Inscription

My grandfather died before I was born. It's lonely to be left alone with grandma.

According to my mother, grandpa died as early as when she was a teenager.

Everyone in mom's family is married. Grandma alone is guarding the home and the house. She, through those years. Grandma didn't have a companion until I was born.

If I can, I hope to have an hourglass, an hourglass that can recall the past, grasp today and see what will happen tomorrow, and give it to my grandmother who has suffered countless trauma ... As long as she feels lonely, she can turn the hourglass upside down, take a look at the stories of the past and recall the wonderful time when my grandfather was alive. Because, in those years, grandma's burden was very heavy, which was unimaginable!

Now, however, it's different-with me and my brothers, she can gradually abandon those terrible past events.

It's almost Qingming. Presumably, grandma will also remind her of that period of time. In order not to make her feel melancholy, grandma can also turn the hourglass upside down and recall that when we were born, grandma played with us, laughed with us, and swam in the boundless world together, only containing that pleasant world.

I was sad, I was lost, and I was helpless under the dim light. Grandma, who can know the stumbling of your life? I can't help but recall that grandpa's departure was so sudden. Who ever thought about it? The death like a meteor took away grandma's beautiful face without reservation. In that sad time, only grandma's sky collapsed.

Grandma, you are beautiful; Sad, go away quickly; Joy, come soon; Wrinkles, let go quickly ... Grandma, was your time not a test of fate?

My little wish is to give grandma an hourglass of memories.

Looking forward to beauty, looking up at the blue sky and the white clouds, let grandma evoke the ripples of memories. The hourglass of memories will leave beauty behind and let the darkness you have seen be lost!

7 hourglass of memories

Has the blackboard and podium faded in those days? Where are those passing notes hidden now? Where are the eyes that once looked back, the childish face, and the bits of joy and loss scattered?

You said, "I'll help you when the sky falls."

You said, "I'm not afraid of being depressed and sad, but I'll laugh it off."

You said, "I think the four of us are like a small family."

I said, "Maybe one day we will be separated, but we will remember that in a certain year, four crazy people cried and laughed together somewhere."

I remember that we used A4 paper to draw book covers together in English class. As soon as the English teacher stepped off the platform, we started to be in a hurry. The English teacher will always be very tolerant of us, and we will make faces at each other. Finally, we finished the "creation" in Chinese. Name it-the cartoon characters we drew together in those years.

I remember that we used to go early every noon, and then sat on the windowsill and table, talking about parents' shortcomings and singing "If Love Forgets".

I remember the interval exercise before graduation. We stood together quietly and sang "The Rainy Season at the Age of Seventeen" on the radio. Everyone bowed their heads and couldn't say a word.

I remember June 25th, 20XX, which was the last time we stood on that land as students of No.3 Middle School. We are wearing sisterhood and smiling. After taking photos of graduation photo, Lao Lin said, "Let's come clean and go clean!" Then holding a rag, I personally erased all traces of life, and tears, like a river burst its banks, washed away all the past experiences.

You said, "Summer carries too many memories between us."

You said, "We don't need to remember, because we never forget."

You said, "I think we are all the same."

I said, "No matter what happens in the future, be good."