Classic and Beautiful Articles on Old Photo Frames

Classic and Beautiful Essays on Old Photo Frames

Classic and Beautiful Essays on Old Photo Frames. I believe everyone has photo frames at home, and even old photo frames that are very old. They carry a lot of memories, so these photo frames also have The traces of time have been removed, representing the past events. Let’s read the classic and beautiful articles about old photo frames. I hope you will like them. Classic and Beautiful Articles on Old Photo Frames 1

After the Qingming Festival, it is also the day to commemorate the mother-in-law.

I hurried back to my hometown, and the willow tree at the door was swaying gently in the wind. I gently pushed open the two mottled wooden doors, and walked over the threshold anxiously. I was caught off guard when I saw the desolation in my eyes.

Yes, even though I had imagined it many times in my mind on the way and thought I had put on thick armor, I was still pierced at this moment. It was an indescribable pain, sharp and long-lasting.

Without those two familiar figures, desolation grew wantonly in this deserted courtyard, occupying every corner and spreading into shepherd's purse and weeds all over the ground. The sun is so bright and everything is unobstructed. Under the south wall, a pear blossom is in full bloom, as white as the snow, like a woman in plain clothes dancing in the wind.

Melancholy, a tree with snow in the east column, how clear can you see life? Dongpo's poems came to him instantly, and something warm rushed down his throat to his nose. Once upon a time, this small courtyard was full of laughter and laughter. Where have all the layers of footsteps, people coming and going, and the lively greetings gone?

There was nothing in the yard, nothing in the house, and the kang was empty. I looked around, but found nothing but deserted.

Looking back suddenly, only the thing on the wall was still there.

That is an old photo frame. I have looked at it countless times and the photos are still increasing. The old photo frame is still hanging quietly on the mottled wall, accompanying the stopped old photo frame. clock. The ups and downs came instantly, with mixed feelings.

In that old photo frame, there were many photos placed side by side and hand in hand, some big and some small, some new and some old; black and white, color, single and group photos, each one was frozen. Beautiful moment. Those black-and-white photos, some of which are decades old, have beautiful lace that has turned yellow. This is clearly a time tunnel. How many people have stopped for it, opened their eyes wide, held their breath, walked through it many times, looked in and out, appreciated and tasted it repeatedly, either with emotion or with joy.

Oh, look, decades have passed in the blink of an eye. Mom, your hair was so dark and thick at that time, and your body was so straight.

Oh, Haibin and the other three were so much fun when they were little. Look, their noses look like they were dug out with a spoon. How handsome they are now.

Haha, my brother was really thin when he got married, and now he has a beer belly.

……

The past events are as vivid as yesterday, those eyes are still there, those words and laughter are still ringing, but no one is listening on the kang. , the people who looked at the photos were in a bad mood. Now, all that remains is a lonely old picture frame on the wall.

The upper right corner is the only photo of my husband’s childhood. I was very surprised when I first saw it, and in an instant I met his childhood. I heard that my eldest aunt sold a bag of sweet potatoes and took the photo to the town. He was a little boy of five or six years old, carrying a yellow schoolbag, with a thin round face, big ears, and bright eyes. , the expression is really similar to Cong Cong; and the 100-day photo of Cong Cong was taken at a photo studio in the town. She was wearing a set of bright yellow sweaters crocheted by her sister-in-law and a ruffled little hat. It was cute. The little socks, with the red border, are as bright as a yellow sunflower, and also like a fluffy little duck, staring at the world with round eyes. On that day, my father held this cute little nephew and was so happy that he couldn't open his mouth from ear to ear.

The fifty-year-old mother-in-law stood in front of Tiananmen Square with her back straight and her face handsome. The photo was taken when she went to babysit the child of her eldest aunt. When she was in her sixties and taking care of her grandson Cong Cong, her waist slowly bowed down and never straightened up again.

The young aunt was wearing a windbreaker, with her face turned sideways, looking forward. The wind blew her black curly hair, which was very charming; now, her hair was thinning, and she had arrived to see her granddaughter. age. The brother-in-law is wearing a white military uniform, a big-brimmed hat, sword-like eyebrows and tiger eyes, and has a heroic appearance. Now, the bags under his eyes are as big as an old-style marching kettle.

That one was a photo of my nephew and nephew thirty years ago. The three little guys were standing on a prop airplane, each like a vibrant seedling. Now, they are all married and have become fathers.

Our wedding photo was taken in the yard. It is a family photo, including father-in-law, mother-in-law, brother, sister-in-law, nephew, and him. I had high bangs, a red suit, and a bright red woolen fishtail skirt, which was so red that it looked so dazzling and earthy. Back then, I was one of the few people in the village who got married wearing a pink wedding dress. Flash forward, more than twenty years have passed.

Another photo was taken for an old man’s birthday. It must have been more than ten years ago. The whole family gathered together. The father-in-law was wearing a birthday hat and stuck out his tongue naughtily. On the table A cut cake. I've only eaten this kind of cake a few times, why has it become a memory like a dream? ...

Suddenly I remembered the old picture frame on the wall of my grandma’s house. Almost exactly the same, a big old photo frame under the tall hanging mirror. It was so crowded inside that the frame could no longer be opened, and the wedding photo of grandma’s youngest grandson was inserted outside.

Grandpa and Third Uncle were both very young at that time. Grandpa sat upright, and Third Uncle stood beside him in military uniform and a five-star hat, smiling, showing his beautiful white fangs. He was the first soldier and the first party member in our family. He was the pride of the whole family at that time.

That photo was taken by our seven granddaughters, who my grandma jokingly called the "Seven Fairies." In winter, the sun is very bright, just under the eaves of grandma's old house, next to a flowerless rose tree. There are seven girls lined up in a row from tallest to smallest. As the eldest, I am the tallest, only a teenager. I wear a big coat that my sister-in-law gave me that covers my buttocks, and I have a bulging body. The other girls are still young and have a lot of bulges. Some have pigtails, some have doll hair, and one is wearing open cotton pants. Now, the youngest ones have passed their thirties.

The last photo of grandma was taken with her granddaughter-in-law, one old and one young. The old one has a kind face, and the younger one is full of smiles.

Nowadays, the people in the photos have become older, older, and older. Looking at this lonely old photo frame, I feel like I am looking at the overlapping footprints of the years, passing by in a mess, disappearing without a trace in the blink of an eye, leaving only these marks, like mottled flower shadows, when the wind blows , whirling and dancing, as soon as the dark clouds came, they disappeared in an instant.

I know that this old photo frame will not be there forever, and it will not be hung forever. Whoever belongs to it will take it away, find another place, clip it up, and put it somewhere in an unknown year and month. At one moment, there will probably be another pair of eyes staring at them, and then sighing, and then put them away until they turn yellow, like leaves on a big tree, falling into the wind and blending into the soil.

When we get together, no one can accompany anyone to the end, and everyone will eventually break up, like a romantic relationship. Suddenly I realized that this old photo frame is like a tree. We in the photo are the leaves. The old man is the root of the old tree. Deep roots and leafy leaves make it green and green. When the roots are gone, everyone will disperse and become One tree, another picture frame, increasing day by day. Generation after generation, no one can change it.

Personnel and affairs are metabolized, and exchanges become ancient and modern. Life is inherently impermanent, with gatherings and separations dependent on each other. Everything will eventually pass away, just like the pear blossoms on the branches, no matter how blooming they are, they will eventually wither. The only thing we can do is to linger under the tree while the flowers are still there, take a look, take another look, and remember them in our hearts until everything withers like pear blossoms in the wind. Classic Essay on Old Photo Frames 2

Ever since I can remember, I have known my father’s oldest and very exquisite photo frame. It entered the family first, I don’t know how many years before I did. When I was a child, I saw it hanging on the table, under the big mirror, and between two beautiful hat tubes. The colorful photos of people in the frame showed even more spirituality and agility, which was particularly eye-catching.

Because my father’s old photo frame has always been hung at the top of the east wall of my old house, people always look up affectionately when they want to see it; my father’s old photo frame embodies the love between husband and wife, mother and child. , father-son love, father-daughter love, brotherly love, schoolmate love, friendship, neighborly love, they are old photo frames that carry a period of history, stories, and emotions; my father’s old photo frames are my childhood fantasies and youth. The daydreams of my life, the thoughts I had when I was a young man in the army, and my memories from then on. It was an old photo frame that entrusted my imagination. Every time I think of it, it always makes me feel emotional, long-lasting and meaningful.

My father’s old photo frame will never be forgotten. My father’s old photo frame is filled with the feelings of our whole family, and even more with my father’s deep love. It also contains my deep love, which is always hard for me to forget.