Senior one's composition about moving.

In daily study, work or life, we often see the figure of composition. Composition is a narrative method that expresses a theme through words after people's ideological consideration and language organization. How to write a composition to avoid stepping on thunder? Next, I will bring you an essay about moving in senior one. I hope you like it!

Senior one's composition on moving 1

It seems easy to move a person; Can make a world moved, moved no longer called moved, but called a miracle. After years of ups and downs, life became extremely difficult, so a miracle appeared, called the Red Cross.

When I was a child, I always saw medicine boxes with red cross armbands in battle movies. I silently felt that they were all great, because no matter how difficult and difficult they were, they were at the forefront of the battlefield. We won't give up our responsibility because of some dangers.

I won't know until I grow up. Those are doctors of the Red Cross who will sacrifice their lives to save others at any time. You know, when life is no longer your own life, but your own responsibility, how many original things will be sacrificed. It is undeniable that the establishment of this spirit is not acceptable to ordinary people. But in the Red Cross, I deeply felt the existence of this spirit. It turns out that the owners of the spirit don't know. They will not deliberately put on airs because they want to leave a beautiful name in the world.

Now, I still hear touching events about the Red Cross from time to time. I really realized what the Red Cross is. A person has reason to save his relatives and friends at any cost, but never has reason to save his enemies. But the Red Cross created a reason to save the enemy, because they are a life, and learning to respect life is what everyone should and should do. I think some people's lives have a real form of existence because of the Red Cross.

The war is over, but the Red Cross still exists. I don't know the future of the Red Cross, but I think it will always benefit mankind and continue to benefit more people in some form. People who really wear the Red Cross are glorious. No matter where they are, they always have touching plots that make people want to cry. I know that this kind of touch will be passed down with the sign of the Red Cross. Even if one day, the world revolves around some truths that once existed, I believe in the connotation of the Red Cross-just to help others silently, which I have always believed and I have always insisted on.

People will have a hundred reasons to be moved, some of which can't be said, but exist silently in their hearts in some form. I don't know what kind of touching form we will taste in the future, and I don't know how life has given us to interpret human beings. Tears can flow again when they are dry: the first hope is gone, and there is a second hope. Life will not give us too much cruelty, and we should learn to choose when facing some things.

Therefore, for the future, we should still be full of love and hope, because only in this way will we be moved. I believe that no matter what, everyone will thank the Red Cross for its existence and let people know that life can exist forever in this form. Touching is a beautiful existence.

People have a hundred reasons to be moved. For us, one of them is about the Red Cross, movement and communication. ...

Senior one's composition on moving 2

Bike has been with my father for sixteen years. In today's highly developed modern transportation technology, it should be retired as a family "antique" collection. But it is not, because it carries hope and embodies the touch of a lifetime, which cannot be collected.

I still remember some scenes when my father used it to send me to school when I was a child. It was a sunny morning, and there was a faint moisture in the air, which seemed to be absorbed as soon as it touched the skin. Flowers and plants dance their slender waist like a festival. The young father carried a schoolbag in one hand and carried me to the car in the other, gently putting me in the back seat. He stuffed his schoolbag into my arms and smiled enthusiastically: "Sit tight!" " Then, listening to the sound of the tires spinning wildly, the car sped forward like a runaway wild horse. The naughty wind messed up my hair and felt so cool! Driving faster and faster, I feel like I'm flying, which is quite similar to what the ancients wrote: "The wind is high and the waves are urgent, and Wan Li rode on the back of a toad and once knew the true appearance of Heng E". I held my father tightly. Although his body is full of sweat, the strong and thick feeling gives me great comfort. In this way, I sang a song in the sun, and the song, like two bells, tinkled all over this cheerful cement road.

When I was a child, because my mother worked in Xinjiang, far away from the Great Wall, I had to live alone with my father most of the time. With the passage of time, my father gradually entered middle age, while I grew up rapidly in my father's later years. Several times, my father couldn't ride the slope close to home because of his lack of physical strength, so I jumped out of the car and helped my father push the cart uphill. Whenever this happens, my father will lower his head and pedal without saying a word. There is a faint sadness, but I don't understand why.

One day, dark clouds covered the sun, and in a blink of an eye, it rained cats and dogs. My father didn't bring a raincoat because he came to school early. As soon as he saw me after school, he took my hand and ran to the car and rode quickly. Along the way, the wet feeling made me feel terrible to the extreme. Seeing the grass on the side of the road washed by the wind and rain, I couldn't lift my head. The raindrops on the stem are as heartbreaking as long tears.

In the blink of an eye, we came to that hillside again. The long and narrow slope winds to one end of the mountain, and piles of rain surge down from the slope. I don't know if I can rush up. My foot fell to the ground, "no" my father growled huskily, as if mixed with a little pleading. "Believe me, I can do it." Father hunched his old back, stood up slightly, pushed his feet back round and round, and stretched his head forward with difficulty.

"Believe me, I can." My father was panting and his body fluctuated under the ravages of wind and rain. The waist that I have been holding seems to have lost a circle. Father is still riding hard, dripping with rain, mixed with sweat, down his back, down my forehead, into his eyes, sour. I couldn't help it anymore. I hugged my father tightly and shouted at the top of my lungs, "I believe you, and I will always believe you."

Yes, although my father is old, he always wants to protect his children, and he always wants to carry a mountain of difficulties for his children with his shoulders that are no longer generous. The worn-out bicycle, like an elderly father, silently carries the future of his children, leaving a lifelong touch and accompanying me through the long road of life.

Senior one's composition about moving 3

The most inconspicuous place, I seem to be a treasure.

That place is called the kitchen, but there is no fragrance of food. How long will it take to smell it again? Originally imprisoned in cumbersome affairs, I lost my taste-inscription.

In such a big room, only the sound of TV rustled faintly. Maybe if I listen carefully, I can still hear the drip of the dropper, maybe there is the sound of electrical appliances, but there is no busy footsteps.

"If one day my ideal is shattered, will you give me a hand? If one day I can't move forward, would you like to spend a warm afternoon with me? " The TV I often watch is on again. Why are only these people so punctual? How much do my parents miss me? The hero who is playing on TV has gone home. The same reunion scene reminds me that I don't think "what's the big deal!" " "However, the photo stayed when I was eating around the table. The breath of happiness hit my nerves and rummaged through all my memories. I found this trace in the fourth grade.

I once dreamed about that past in my dream. I just want a family reunion.

"I bought the food back." Panting, my father immediately put the dishes in his hand into the kitchen and let my chef and mother cook them themselves. Out of curiosity, we children all crowded into the kitchen. However, things still need to be done. My mother washed the cabbage for me, my brother washed the fruit, and my father let him rest. Running water seeps into the leaves and takes away the soil. Then I will peel off the leaves one by one and throw all the bad and old ones into the trash can. The first time I washed vegetables, my hands were very strong. I washed a lot of cabbages, but I was afraid of being scolded by my mother, so I hid these leaves in the washed ones. "Well, all the children are out. I am going to cook. " The "hippo chef" oil was put into the pot. After a while, a puff of smoke came out of the pot. Now, my mother cooks cabbage and salt, and cooks the pot skillfully. I picked up the food and took a deep breath. As far as I can remember, I only think that dish is really delicious. After washing our hands, we sat in rows at the table, waiting for our mother to bring the dishes to the table. Scrambled eggs with tomatoes, fried chicken with taro, fried cabbage, and many more. My mother helps me cook vegetables, and my father helps me cook vegetables. I told interesting stories about school, and my father told me about the new women's shoes he thought of. "I just feel that the rice is delicious, delicious, and it seems that only family members are scattered in the dish is the best dish, and delicacies are incomparable.

That scene made me cry, because it was a special touch.

A cool breeze woke me up, and I suddenly missed my mother's cooking. Suddenly, someone knocked at the door. I dropped my pillow and stumbled to the door: "Could it be mom?" I opened the door excitedly and slammed the door. It turned out that the neighbor's mother brought food home. Not my mother. I feel bored and go back to the sofa. Go on with my TV, there is only TV sound at home. Listen carefully and there will be a sigh.

Senior one's composition about moving 4

Touched all the time. I was moved by the love and warmth my mother gave me. I have been touched by the true feelings between people; I have been touched by a person's story, and I have been ... there are countless touching stories in this world. But there is one thing that really makes me wander back and forth ...

"Mother", a word that is neither strange nor boring, can touch thousands of people in Qian Qian.

We were born in our mother's belly. Although it looks easy, our mother will be pregnant in 10, so that we can be born smoothly. Sometimes, if she is not careful, there will be serious consequences ... It may be a joy and happiness for her family and relatives at the beginning of pregnancy, but for me, it may be the pain of her mother for a few seconds before she is about to give birth to you. Do you know why I said that? Because I saw it with my own eyes from TV programs. The first thing I did at that time was heartache. How painful my mother is! No one can understand this. ...

Mother, you are great, that is, at the moment you gave birth to us, I want to praise you, because you brought us to this strange and boring world, and you nurtured us; It is the truth that you taught us to be human since childhood; You gave us love; You made us honest people.

Mom! Your deeds touched countless people. ...

Mom. I would like to write a song for you, praising your beautiful tomorrow; I would like to be a flying bird for you, soaring in the sky. Because of you, I am here, and I would like to make your touching story known to the world.

Senior one's composition about moving 5

Touching is a kind of "temperature" created by irresistible attraction in the deep heart.

There are many trivial things around us, and these things often make people deeply moved. Behind every action, there is a story. ...

On my way to school, there is a force that silently supports me behind my back. She is my junior high school Chinese teacher, Miss Liu, and one of my most admired class teachers.

When I have setbacks in my studies, she always encourages me and supports me. When I need help in my life, she lends a helping hand; When I ran away from home because of some small things, she repeatedly told me the truth of life.

Although Mr. Liu is fierce, he always thinks of us. She took pains to help us rehearse the New Year's Day performance or the chorus at noon. In order to help some students with poor Chinese performance, Mr. Liu sacrificed his weekend to make up lessons for us.

Although some students don't like her and sometimes even quarrel with her, she still cares about us. In the past, when she was our head teacher, she often organized some entertainment activities. When we get good grades in the mid-term exam, even if we only make a little progress, Mr. Liu will organize us to hold a tea party.

Although she is no longer our class teacher in Grade Two, she still cares about us. I remember one time, half of our class had a fever and got sick. Teacher Liu personally disinfected the classroom and told us the precautions.

Bit by bit, let us feel the warmth of Teacher Liu. People are not vegetation, who can be ruthless?

Shallow shadow, rising slowly, is touching my heart!

A different kind of touch, a different kind of "temperature".