The voice in the depths of memory 500-word primary school composition

In the depths of my memory, there is a voice that contains the most beautiful moment of growth, and there is a voice that impressed me deeply. The following is a 500-word primary school composition, which is about the voice in my memory. I hope you like it.

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The voice deep in memory, 550 words, sixth grade composition?

The voice in the depths of memory 500 words composition 1

Afternoon sunshine, lazily sprinkled on my body, I was half lying in a chair, and the voice of my brother practicing erhu next door came from my ear. I closed my eyes and let the past come to my mind.

A few years ago, whenever I came back downstairs from school, I could always hear the faint erhu sound. I know grandpa is complaining again. When I got home, I saw my grandfather's lonely back, and the voice from erhu seemed to be crying. My heart is always full of sadness for no reason.

Later, grandpa felt that his tongue was sore and ulcerated for a long time and went to the hospital for examination. It was already in the advanced stage of tongue cancer. The whole family didn't tell grandpa the real condition, only told him that it was an ordinary oral ulcer and it would be fine to be hospitalized for a while. Every day after school, I go to the hospital to accompany my grandfather. Sometimes, he will ask me, why haven't you left the hospital? I often don't know how to answer, but I can only comfort him: nothing, don't worry, you will be discharged soon. Sometimes grandpa sees me coming and doesn't say a word, just in the hospital bed, immersed in his erhu.

I had just finished my piano lesson that day, and I brought the piano with me. Grandpa was ecstatic when he saw me holding a violin, thinking I wanted to play with him. I didn't want to hurt my grandfather's heart, so I took out my piano and played a song "Two Springs Reflecting the Moon" with him. This is my most devoted performance. At the climax, I heard grandpa's increasingly sad piano sound, and I remembered that the doctor said grandpa would not live for a few days and shed tears. At the end of the song, I put down my piano, closed my red eyes and leaned against the wall feebly. Outside the window, only the pale summer, only a few sad cicadas, broke the sudden silence in the ward.

Two months later, grandpa left, silently and peacefully, but he still held the erhu in his arms. When I was buried, my grandfather and I went to sleep together, where there was the only erhu that understood my grandfather's heart.

That lonely erhu sound, that familiar and ancient technique, has been left in my memory forever. Now I just want to say to grandpa: the sunshine jumping at my fingertips is my unchanging belief in this life.

Grandpa, heaven is safe!

The voice in the depths of memory 500 words composition 2

A carpenter lives next door to my house. Everyone calls him carpenter Li.

When he was a teenager, he was blind in one eye, but his unique skill in carving wood was beyond the learning range of ordinary people.

When I have nothing to do, I will go to Lao Li's house to watch him squint at Mo Dou with the other eye, gently mark the wood, pick up the plane and cut the wood, and spend a stable time in the rustling sound and roaring sawdust.

His home is simple. A chandelier, some broken chairs, an axe, some saws and a meat cleaver are almost all his possessions. Lao Li once said, who needs carpenters in so many factories and companies? In a few years, he will disappear! Then, another "sand-sand-"

It rained for several days, and I was often bored in the house, so I went out and knocked on Lao Li's door with the voice of "sand-sand-"."There you are. Sit down, "Lao Li paused and added," I got a big guy these days and finally got busy. " Turned back to his Woods and didn't speak again. Wang probably looked at the appearance of a bed, and the shoulders of the bed were already hunched. Lao Li is carefully carving the pattern of the bedside, and the magpies are paired, and the branches and vines are intertwined, making a touching boudoir sound. I can't believe how such a heavy piece of wood has become a delicate poem. Although the results are always novel, the process of carving and splicing is undoubtedly boring and lengthy.

Lao Li suddenly said, "You know, this sawdust is a good thing, and the rice cooked with it is delicious." But that was in the past. Now who will wait all afternoon for a meal? ""rustling "sound, like snowflakes falling down the sawdust, fell to the ground. Others curled his hair beautifully. I want to help him take it off, but I'm afraid to disturb him. In this rustling sound, he seemed to think of the past. Is it the unique hot and subtle aroma of sawdust when it burns, or is it the burnt open rice crust? Maybe this rustling makes his present and memory coincide. But now things have changed, making him bow his head, leaving only a sigh and disappearing.

I left quietly and couldn't bear to interrupt Lao Li and his only memory.

The fragrant wood is still there, and the rustling is still there, floating and echoing. ...

One day a few days later, I opened the door, only to find that Lao Li was gone, with his broken furniture and rustling sound. It's time to go back to where Lao Li wants to go. There is a mist floating before my eyes. In the twilight, Lao Li was still sitting on a small bench, playing with Mo Dou, accompanied by his favorite wood, and it became dusk at noon. For him, this is a quiet land, which can accommodate years and glitz.

I laughed silently, but I stopped laughing.

With Lao Li gone, he may be as messy, rough and ordinary as sawdust on the ground. But once he comes into contact with the fragrant wood, his heart will glow differently from the smooth finished product. Simple, always simple?

Carpenter Li, a craftsman, holds his own inner standards and exists silently. The sound of "rustling" exists simply with Lao Li, but it has a fragrance. Scattered between heaven and earth.

The rustling sound is still there, and the man is still there.

The voice in the depths of memory 500 words composition 3

I stood still, waiting for the familiar voice to enter my ears.

Sure enough, the bell rang behind him; Grandpa came to me slowly and leisurely on that bike, and we rode home together.

The most striking thing is the bell, which shines silver in the sun. I can't help touching it every time I see it. Accompanied by the crisp "Ding Rinrin" sound, pedestrians on the roadside also looked at it, and inexplicable pride also came into being.

Whenever I get separated from my grandfather in the bustling city where people come and go, there will be a rapid and rhythmic bell ringing in my ear; This calmed my original fear and stood quietly, waiting for the sound to get closer and closer to me.

It's already April, and the air is mixed with a few pleasant strands.

As soon as I got on grandpa's car, I urged him to pedal quickly; But he still looks leisurely, as if he knows the development law of "everything in the world" like the back of his hand.

"The road should go slowly and the car should ride slowly."

I nodded, puzzled; The color in the eyes gradually faded, and the eyes gradually blurred; Sit in the back seat and look around.

At first glance, where is there no fragrance on the earth? Accompanied by ringing bells; The sky is pure as water, and it looks purer than usual, as if it can be touched by reaching out. The grass on the roadside is just a few clumps, broken green, like a flower embroidered on a piece of yellow silk. A few peach blossoms in the distance are enchanting and charming. One after another, restrained and implicit. So charming.

The sun is not afraid of anything, but tries its best to pour out from all the cracks and shine on grandpa and grandson. The bell is also like sunshine, spreading and nourishing people's impetuous hearts, and everything is getting along gradually.

The long-awaited bell may always reverberate in the depths of memory.

The voice in the depths of memory 500 words composition 4

First of all, a long time ago, almost ten years ago ...

When I was a child, I lived in Canglang District and always went to school far away. First cross the river bridge, then cross the downtown area, and then bypass a long path. Yi Song is the nanny at home. It seems that she has been helping me at home since I was born, but I don't remember when she came. At that time, my parents were always busy late, so she simply stayed to take care of me.

Aunt Song taught me to walk and eat, and sent me to school when I grew up. I get up in a hurry every morning, stuff all the bread and porridge into my head, and then go out by bike in a hurry. Even after using the car for a long time, it always starts to "click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click. As for Yi Song, she hummed her own folk songs with this beat. The loud and hoarse voice naturally disturbed me, and I was fidgeting for a while. Helpless, the wind, singing, and the sound of bicycles covered up my complaints without a trace, so I simply gave up.

Day after day, life gradually becomes three points and one line.

Being pulled up at 5: 30 every day, having breakfast in a hurry, rushing to school, and listening to the bicycle beating time for Yi Song's songs on the way … seems to have become a habit.

Until that day.

My parents came back unexpectedly early and talked with Yi Song for a long time. I tried to listen, but I was driven away.

The next day, Yi Song didn't sing on the road, but left dry and monotonous footsteps. I don't understand. I patted her, and she just hunched her back and held the faucet intently. The peach blossoms in March quietly stopped on her back, and occasionally the fog was thick, leaving me with a wide and thick back. Soft willows tease orioles, and the east wind at the bridge blows away a car full of loneliness ... I have never found the environment so noisy and lonely along the way.

Yi Song has gone without a trace, and the ghosting has long since disappeared. Later, when she learned that her husband had passed away, the children went back to their hometown to help without going to college. Although I don't understand, I just accept and get used to life without her. Later, I only mentioned it occasionally in the chat after dinner, and even I forgot what I looked like and how I looked.

Now every time I recall, only the fragments of Gu Xiang's way to school are vaguely flashed in my mind. Looking back and staring, it seems that I saw the back through the corner. Loud folk songs, accompanied by metal friction, stay in the old street deep in memory.

The voice in the depths of memory 500 words composition 5

Listen, that's the sound of the wind blowing; Listen, that's the voice of students reading; Listen, that's the voice I remember. -inscription

In my memory, there are many pictures blurred by time. The voice that once knocked on my heart always sounded in my ears, accompanied by the same pictures hidden in the depths of my memory, which made my eyes slightly moist and my heart filled with emotion.

At that time, I was only six. My mother gave my hand to the teacher and promised to take me home after school. "Jingle bells ..." One day passed. I sat in the classroom waiting for my mother to pick me up, and my classmates were picked up by my parents one after another. I waited anxiously. Through the window, the sun has set, and there is still the afterglow of the sun in the sky. After waiting for a long time, my mother still didn't come. I have to look around the school gate. I just hope my mother will appear in the blink of an eye. But god didn't do what I wanted. An idea flashed through my mind: go home by yourself. I was shocked by my own thoughts. After all, I have never left my mother's arms since I was a child. I began to hesitate, but finally decided to go back by myself. As soon as I took a step, my feet shrank back for fear of being caught by the bad guys. Looking at the school gate, suddenly, I was attracted by the novelty of the street and stepped out of the school gate, without the fear and hesitation just now. I think it's a child's nature.

Walking, a zebra crossing appeared in front of me. As soon as I got out, a car flew towards me, and I quickly shrank my feet back. When there was no car, just a few steps later, a red car came towards me, which scared me to step back quickly. I haven't been there several times in a row. Watching all kinds of pedestrians pass by quickly, I don't want to help at all I stood on the side of the road and couldn't help feeling the indifference of pedestrians. Just when I was about to cry, suddenly a hand patted me on the shoulder, and then I seemed to hear a heavenly voice in my ear: "Little sister, what's wrong with you?" Are you lost? " Come on, tell my sister. "There are such good people in the world. I pointed to the opposite side and said, "Sister, I want to cross the road. But I am afraid. " "Come, take my sister's hand and let's go together. "As soon as I pull my sister's hand, I feel that her hand is very warm. Then my sister took me home. We talked a lot along the way, but we didn't remember anything except her voice.

Listen, there is a voice, from the depths of my memory.

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