The crisp and melodious sound of the piano gives people memories of childhood;
The melancholy voice of pipa gives people nostalgic associations;
That voice gave me the power of love.
Things have been in a hurry for decades, so how can spring flowers and autumn moons be idle? In this fast-paced social life, people's ears are full of all kinds of voices, but maybe that voice will not be remembered-footsteps.
Dad has a unique pace, always rhythmic, like the beautiful sliding sound on the piano keys, like the crisp sound of "four strings singing together, such as spinning" on the pipa strings. Every contact between the sole and the ground embodies a sense of art. Once, I didn't realize there was love in my footsteps.
"Go to sleep!" Dad came into my room gently and said kindly, making my bed conveniently. I nodded and said, "OK, I'll sleep for a while." The brisk pace left me. Looking at the paved quilt and smelling the fragrance released from it, I feel that there is a caring smell in my footsteps. A strange feeling came to my mind.
Footsteps flow through my heart like a gurgling stream, nourishing my dry heart.
At night, I was awakened by a nightmare and heard a string of light, thin, cautious and steady voices coming to my room. I closed my eyes in fear. The door opened slightly, and I quietly opened my eyes a little. In the darkness, I saw a tall body gently covering me with a quilt that had just been broken. Everything is so skilled, as if I can do it every day. Then he crept away again. Although it was light, I recognized the rhythmic sound. It's dad. I was surrounded by the warm current of my father's love and suddenly burst into tears. I can hear the concern and caution in my footsteps, like the cool summer breeze, which brings me coolness, makes my heart calm and hot, and makes me move forward.
Dad will send me to and from school every day. Every afternoon after school, what I look forward to most is to hear the familiar melody coming from the corridor, which will relax my uneasy heart. During the winter vacation, I went to school to make up lessons. When school is over, Goose Feather University opens outside. The students all went out to feel the pure beauty of white in winter, but I secretly closed my heart. Will my father come? I can't help asking myself over and over again. The class answers always float around: "Yes", "No" and "Yes" ... After school, all the students walked away smiling, only I was waiting anxiously in the classroom. When I was almost desperate and ready to go home alone, the familiar footsteps came, so eager that they seemed to have no rhythm. I can't help feeling happy. Go out and have a look, it's really dad. He's covered in snow! All white hair, like a snowman! He said apologetically, "It's too late to go back and get you a poncho." Said, and took out a raincoat with his warm body temperature from his arms. I couldn't help it any longer. I threw myself into his arms and held him tightly.
People say that my father loves me like a mountain. Today I finally witnessed this sentence. My father's love gave me the power to be happy!
Now sitting in the examination room looking at the topic, the first thing that comes to mind is the voice of love, because only the footsteps of love have a soul!
Dad, I love you!
Listen carefully
Recently, the weather has turned from warm to cold, from rain to sunny, from heavy rain to scorching sun. In poor health, I caught a bad cold under the attack of cold and warm fronts. I buried my groggy head in the pillow, hoping that I could recover after a sleep, but when I got up the next day, my throat was so blocked that I didn't care at first. When I wanted to say hello to my mother, I found a serious problem-
I can't talk.
"This is a voice. Sometimes colds do this. It will be fine in two days. " My mother comforted me.
I think it's novel, and it's really fun to be speechless! But not long after, I found that the problem was not small. A lot of things I want to express can't be said. I will show my face when I see that my classmates won't say hello. I'm too noisy and quiet. I can't believe it.
When I tried to encourage my mother to eat steak at noon, but I couldn't make a sound with my mouth open, I completely collapsed. In the mirror, my lips are open and closed, but there is no sound. As funny as an actor in a silent movie. Seeing that I was depressed, my mother smiled mysteriously and said, "Can the sound only come from my throat?" After that, my mother turned and went into the kitchen. I heard the familiar ensemble of pots and pans, as well as the sound of cutting vegetables and juicing with a juicer ... all kinds of voices were endless, all of which were my mother's!
Calm down, I'll open the window. The voice of the football broadcast belongs to the uncle next door, the inexperienced violin belongs to the little girl next door, the "squeak" voice belongs to the old man riding a broken tricycle to buy junk, the "chirp" voice belongs to the cheerful bird, and the "rustling" voice belongs to the old locust tree in the yard. ...
Everyone has so many voices! When I close my eyes, my ears will be clear, and a harmonious and natural voice will be introduced into my ears. There will be no quarrel, no gossip, no nagging, some will be relaxed and carefree, and will not be touched by human voices. Like a quiet mute, I seem to hear the sound of mountains, water and clouds crossing the sky and water lilies blooming petals. ...
When I opened my eyes, all the pictures came to an abrupt end. I rubbed my ears, trying to say something, but suddenly I remembered that I couldn't say anything. There is no laughter, but a smile has climbed up my cheek. This silent smile is better than a smile as clear as a bell, and a smile that breathes like an oriole reminds me that "more is told in silence than in their voices".
Mother took out the steak from the kitchen and said, "Do you want a steak?" I shook my head and my mother looked at me in surprise. Now steak is not the most important thing. I went to the piano and played Chopin's serenade. I have heard of Wan Lai, so when others lose confidence and feel depressed, I hope they can hear my beautiful voice.
The last class of frustration, accompanied by the teacher's voice and thunder in the air, went on in frustration.
Looking out of the window, the heavy rain is ruthlessly destroying the earth. The noisy crash troubled the hearts of the students, who whispered in their ears-they were afraid of heavy rain!
As time goes by, I am on pins and needles. Looking at all kinds of cars, vans and motorcycles at the school gate ... I am very anxious. I wish my father wouldn't come!
I can't remember clearly what the teacher said on the platform. In fact, I don't listen at all. I looked out of the window again. Fortunately, my father didn't come. I breathed a long sigh of relief. ...
When the fatal bell rang, I rushed out of the classroom with my schoolbag on my back and plunged into the endless rain curtain. Rain poured on me quickly from the top of my head, but I'm glad my father didn't come. Looking back at the school gate, the students got into the warm and spacious carriages one by one, and the sound of motor gradually drowned my thoughts. ...
"Son!" A thunder woke me up from my dream. This familiar voice ... no! Look inside, dad's here! He has an old umbrella in his hand, an old man's bike. The rust on the bike is as irregular as the wrinkles on his face. He has a smile on his face. Although he is very kind, I feel uncomfortable all over.
"Dad is late, sorry, take an umbrella quickly, and Dad will take you home." He said slowly.
Car after car passed by me, and I felt that my classmates in the car must be staring at him and his worn-out bike with disdain. My face feels burning pain. ...
He seems to know something. He took a shabby five-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to me carefully. "I have to leave early. Go home by car. " Say that finish, I slowly stepped on the bicycle in the rain and struggled to get up. With the sound of "creaking, creaking", my father left me slowly; Father's thin back gradually blurred in the endless rain.
My face was burning, and I lowered my head. Suddenly, I saw where my father was standing, and there were only dense raindrops and two cigarette butts still smoking. I know my father never smokes. ...
A stream of heat suddenly welled up in my heart, my nose was sour and tears flowed down. Some people say that holding your breath can stop tears from coming out, but my eyes are confused because I can't hold back my tears. He is my father, and poverty cannot change the affection between father and son!
"Wait for me-"I shouted, running and catching up with my father with tears in my eyes. ...
Under a faded umbrella, two fiery hearts melted the cold of the rainstorm; On an old bicycle, the most beautiful and true laughter in the world flew out. ...