Writing with reading as the theme. Don't be naive. That should be enough.

Bind the footprints of growth into a book, decorate the trickling water with the afterglow as the background, and let the maple leaves fall in it. Looking back on my growth and reading, I found that my mother's love is always indispensable!

Twilight, like a big gray net, falls quietly and captures the whole earth in the net. Bundle the collar, pulled the sleeves, slightly cold, got up and found a thicker dress. Sensing my movements, my mother asked curiously, "What are you looking for?" "It's cold, looking for clothes." My mother frowned slightly and had an impatient expression on her face. "oh! I forgot to find it for you last time. Wait, I'll find it for you now. " Before I could speak, he turned and rummaged around.

I saw my mother shuttling around the room. It is already late autumn, but my mother is still wearing only a thin sweater and a pair of trousers, and her sleeves are rolled up high, which shows the hard work of her master. Mom rummaged through the bedside table, looked at the bedside drawer, looked for the luggage by the wall, and kept chanting "Why not?" It's strange that it was clearly put here last time. "I advised," mom, keep the change. I won't wear it first. " Mother didn't listen, but she was still busy. Suddenly, my mother stopped, her eyebrows slightly twisted, and her cheeks reddened by strenuous activities became dignified, as if thinking about something, and her eyes swept through the room without letting go of a penny. For a long time, my eyes showed amazing light, my eyes were full of color and my eyes were wide open. With the sound of "Oh", my mother's face was full of joy. I know where it is! "

I saw my mother pick up a chair, staggered slightly to the front of the cabinet, put down the chair, stepped on her left leg, put out her hands, held the back of the chair with one hand, and grasped the edge of the cabinet with the other hand, pushed her legs hard, and her right leg caught up with her and stood on the chair. My mother's back fluctuates violently. She tried to calm her shortness of breath, raised her arms, grabbed the bag on the cupboard, pulled it out and hugged it hard. I took it. Mother retracted her legs, held out her hand, grabbed, pressed, stepped back, stood still and gasped violently.

I took the clothes handed over by my mother and put them on, and suddenly it was much warmer. Reading maternal love, the valve of memory suddenly opened. In the memoirs of growing up, my mother's love is not only hidden in the trouble of finding clothes for me; Still avoiding my mother, ignoring the cold and waiting for me to finish class; Melt into the meticulous nutrition package my mother gave me; My mother patiently and persistently washed my school uniform; What's more, my mother brought me water gently and delicately. Maternal love is everywhere but everywhere, bit by bit, hidden in life, lingering around me all the time, watching me!

Looking back at the moment when I grew up, I read maternal love again. In my heart, the breeze blows and ripples, and I can't be calm for a long time. ...

(2)

My world is very small, except books, only books; My world is very big, except books, they are all books.

-inscription

Like a bee and butterfly flying through flowers, like a clear spring flowing through a valley, in my memory, my reading life is like a colorful picture scroll, as well as a movement of cheerful notes.

What I first read was a collection of fairy tales with phonetic notation. "You can go without eating or sleeping for a day, but you can't go without reading for a day." This sentence is my true portrayal. I read it with relish at first, but after a long time, I felt dissatisfied.

Gradually, I went to primary school and learned to use reference books, so this simple book with pinyin reading can no longer satisfy me. I found an "oasis"-the city library, which contains countless books. So I used my only lunch break every day to sweep away my lunch and run to the library.

A classmate asked me, "Don't you think reading is boring?" I told him from the beginning of the book Helion: "No, of course not. In ancient times, there were three tastes of reading:' reading classics is like rice, reading history is like vegetables, and reading a hundred schools of thought is like sugar. "How can it be boring? The ancients were limited by history, and reading was only "three flavors". Nowadays, reading is far more than "three flavors", and the fun of reading is rich and colorful. How can it be boring? " Students listen to my endless talk, and reading has to be confusing. If he doesn't want to read, he naturally won't know the fun of reading. If he is not a fish, he will know the happiness of fish. So I read, read, read in the puzzled eyes of my classmates. I once remembered a story: "A businessman got lost in a foggy valley, and a voice told him to pick up a stone. When the fog clears, you will be both excited and sorry. " He picked up a stone and held it in his hand. The fog cleared away when he walked out of the valley. He was excited to find that the stone in his hand was shining in the rising sun-it was a diamond. The excitement was fleeting and he regretted it. Why didn't he pick up more pieces in the first place? I am now picking up diamonds in the "fog". I believe that when the fog clears, the stones in my hands will shine brilliantly!

The books of Lu Xun, Lao She and Ba Jin let me see the hardships and vicissitudes of the world. Chewing Bing Xin and Tagore's poems, I understood those gentle, delicate, euphemistic, beautiful and philosophical sentences. I love Shen Congwen's natural and simple words, Zhu Ziqing's fresh and refined language, and Lin Yutang's humorous and free-spirited prose. ...

If you don't put down your books, you are bound to achieve something, and even flipping through them occasionally is beneficial. I've seen people who don't leave the table all day; I have met people who forget to eat, sleep and play computer games. But people who have been friends with the book for many years have not met.

Unconsciously, I grew up reading, and I love reading. Poetry, prose, novels and plays always attract me like that. That good book and beautiful article all record my growing footprints. At night, I accompanied a solitary lamp, and my heart crossed the Sahara desert with three hairs. I watched Xi Murong's "For Happiness" and communicated with Roland. Lonely Feeling and Bing Xin tasted Feeling of Life together. ...

Unconsciously, I grew up reading, and I love reading. Poetry, prose, novels and plays always attract me like that. That good book and beautiful article all record my growing footprints. At night, I accompanied a solitary lamp, and my heart crossed the Sahara desert with three hairs. I watched Xi Murong's "For Happiness" and communicated with Roland. Lonely Feeling and Bing Xin tasted Feeling of Life together. ...

So in countless days and nights, every minute, faint and fragrant books accompanied me to grow up, get out of loneliness and mature. ...

(3)

Everything will pass and become the past, but the sun will not, it will always be bright. -inscription

Standing under the tree, let the sun shine on your hands, forming a small bright spot, beating like a vibrant living thing under the wind.

The sunshine in summer always smells sweet, familiar and kind, and there are memories of childhood in the air.

I remember that my childhood happiness was left at my grandmother's house.

As soon as the summer vacation arrived, I rushed to my grandmother's house and followed the older children all day, catching fish, shrimps and crabs, afraid of rolling in the mud. Every evening, I reluctantly drag myself home through the sunset. Then take out a small stool from home and sit in the yard. I sent the sun home with my chin cupped and told him to see you tomorrow.

I walked to the river, found the big stone, sat on it, took off my shoes, fingered the splash with my toes, and watched the bright ripples disperse in circles, which made me feel very comfortable.

Passing through the grass, the playground of childhood.

The grass is still so green and lovely as it was then. The open grassland is covered with sunlight. Lie down and close your eyes. A warm and bright light shakes in front of your eyes, and whistles, running and laughter come from your ears. ...

Holding a football to find some good friends, running there every day after school, staring at the football chase, handsome black and blue, that is commonplace. The new white sneakers were soon covered with mud. When I got home, the teacher was scolded by my mother and called me a crazy girl.

But the happiness under the blue sky, watching the flying birds and shouting the memory of dreams, is still beautiful and young.

But all this was pressed under the table by heavy paper and hidden in the past years-this was later.

I came home and sat at my desk. Watching the sun shine on the desktop through the window seems to be writing something. Yes, I spent almost every sunny day on the third day in front of this desk. The test paper covered up the yellowing memory of fairy tales, and my heart was empty, as if something was missing. It was not until I realized that this beam of sunshine was still by my side that my heart brightened a lot. I can read the sunshine here and read happily.

The sun shines leisurely on the earth, and everything is comfortably bathed in the sun. In the summer afternoon, I stepped on the sunshine, humming a ditty, reading the sunshine and counting the memories. ...