Has anyone written a composition about metasequoia trees?

When I think back to my teenage years, the first thing I think of is a tree.

When the slogan "Afforestation is everyone's responsibility" was written everywhere in the village, I got saplings distributed by the school to students as soon as I entered the school gate. So, I planted it at the door of my house. Ashamedly, I didn’t even know the name of this important tree that grew up with me. I thought it was poplar, but I insisted that it was poplar. I once learned "Praise to the Poplar" in Chinese class, so I showed off in front of my classmates that I had planted a poplar tree with my own hands. It was the same poplar tree as the one in the textbook, which aroused ridicule.

Grandma told me that it was a metasequoia tree. So, I no longer call it poplar. I know it's more important to me than a few cabbages in the garden. Because, my mother said that when I grow up, she will use this metasequoia tree as my dowry. After all, it is a tree planted by my own hands.

The grocery store in front of my home is bustling, and people come here every day to chat or play mahjong. The tree in front of the door seemed a little lonely. There are no birds singing, and the leaves always fall down unconsciously. Only in spring, they have the opportunity to stay on the trees and watch the same sun and moon in the sky with the branches.

The young leaves that have just sprouted are full of hope for the world, but the powerless dead leaves blown down by the wind are so unfortunate. They all have a time to fall into place in the end, just like a person must have a return date sooner or later after going out...

Before I was ten years old, I always had a student's hair, and then I started to have long hair, which has remained the same. Her hairstyle: a braid on one side, tied high. Then insert a flower in the gap between each braid. Although I have long surpassed the age of such exaggerated styling. Before the age of eighteen, my aesthetics and preferences were always ignored. My mother helped me decide all of this. She would give me clothes that were too small for her sister. She would resolutely cut off my hair because she found it troublesome, just like cutting off an angel's wings. I was very sad, but unable to fight.

So, I felt sad every time I helped my father hold the wooden ladder and asked him to cut off the extra branches of my metasequoia tree. The branches were swaying in the air with the wind, and it seemed that he was also struggling painfully. Is it as sad as me?

When I was young, I would be fond of those distant and beautiful people or things for no reason, but I would be dismissive of the beauty around me. My neighbor's grandma told me a "secret" after my father scolded me, saying that I was a found child. So, I packed up my clothes and went to find my biological parents in a distant place. He left a note and walked out of the house not knowing which direction was the direction to find his parents. So, I asked the whole family to look for me with flashlights at night, and then found me in a ditch in the countryside where there was no water.

But the tree is very honest. The tree never speaks a word. It knows that keeping its roots and taking root silently in the deep soil is its life. The tree in front of the house is a reference for me hiding behind the house.

Whenever the children in the village do not want to play with me, I will feel that it is a shame not to go to the children to play. I should take the initiative to go to them again, but Metasequoia often makes me It changed its mind and never adapted to anyone's world, even though there were some small weeds and a jujube tree that always grew unripe jujubes. However, it has never felt lonely and continues to grow. Therefore, I have always regarded the tree in front of my house as the eaves of my soul, allowing it to protect me from frost and snow, and listen to me express my heart and soul.

"Gold always shines." Dad said. So I left the classroom without dreams.

Crying, I ran to my tree and buried the paper full of wishes at its feet.

When I left it, it was already as thick as the mouth of a small bowl. For more than 20 years, it has grown freely. I think I have to bear the wind and rain alone like it.

I said to myself sternly: Don’t come back, don’t see dad again. Unlike dad, he stayed in one place for a lifetime and never moved even after being wronged.

I think that people can never be as detached as trees in this life, because people spend their lives staggering on the ground, while trees walk below the ground. There are too many things that trees don’t do. As you know, I have too many things that I am not willing to let go of.

For two years, I have never gone back to see the trees I planted with my own hands. In the dream, I heard the tree calling my nickname.

This time, I am back, but I am leaving again.

I saw that it had grown much taller, thicker, and sprouted many small branches. It was a tree that I had always missed. I stayed with it in my hometown for a week. Looking at the snow on its thick branches, I took a few sticks of incense, made a new wish in front of it, and then set off a bunch of firecrackers...

Start from a tree and end up back at a tree. One day, when I come back, I want to engrave my name on it.