Article 1: There is a voice deep in my memory that wrote a 600-word anthology "Bang Bang! The deafening sound of popcorn broke the silence of the street, as if to shock people to the depths of their brains. It's hard to see popcorn vendors on the street these years. Now it sounds as if I saw my childhood.
When I was a child, I could always see several vendors buying popcorn on the roadside. The gourd-shaped popcorn machine seems to me to be an enchanted container. When the stall owner shouts "popcorn", the children around him will quickly cover their ears, and then there will be a thunder roar, and those small grains of rice will bloom like white flowers.
At that time, I liked popcorn very much, but I was frightened by the harsh voice and never dared to buy popcorn alone.
At this time, my mother seemed to see through my thoughts. She always walks around the street holding my big hand and my small hand, just to help me find a popcorn vendor.
Whenever the stall owner shouts, my mother's warm hand will cover my ear in time and step back from time to time. Suddenly it rang! The loud noise I heard turned into a stuffy drum, not so unbearable, but quite pleasant!
Whenever I ask my mother if she is afraid of that voice, she always smiles and says, "What are you afraid of?" ? That's a spell that makes corn kernels bloom. "After listening to this, I can't help but become interested. The sound of popcorn seems to be very kind in my heart.
Under my mother's unique "processing", that deafening sound was written into a magical movement, which made my childhood life less monotonous and seemed to be full of the "sweetness" of popcorn, which I will never forget.
Life is like a record on a phonograph, playing music of memories under the stylus, rambling about the past time, and some sound quality has long been blurred under the running-in of time.
However, there is a voice that I cannot forget. The sound is still so loud, as if it were yesterday.
Chapter 2: There is a voice in memory. 600 words are selected in my heart, and there is a sound flowing. There is no prelude and no ending; There are only waves of water ripples. Never seen a note, as if there are a pair of invisible wings, flying in my heart.
The sky seems to be sprinkled with a handful of milky ink, and when the wind blows, it will knead into countless clouds. Rays of sunlight flitted playfully across the branches and were cut into pieces. Between the refraction of light and shadow, the garden in front of the house became mottled all over the floor. In front of the door, your crescent-shaped eyes overflowed with love and warmed my wet heart. Your warm hand holds a gardenia seed, let it jointing in your heart.
A penny to support the years, across the long river of the years, stopped by the stream of gardenia. I remember there is always someone I can rely on deeply. I don't know if it's too cold or my own technology. I fell down more than once while skating, but I can get up again and again. But this time, with a "plop", I fell heavily on the ground, which was simply "dogs eat shit". I don't want to stand up angrily again and let the cold wind beat my cheek mercilessly. God seemed to laugh at me and suddenly put on a black cloak, which made me breathless. Just when I was desperate, I turned around inadvertently and saw you standing in the wind with encouragement in your eyes. I clearly felt that a hot air pierced the sleepy air and shot into my heart.
At that moment, I obviously felt a stir in my heart. Are the seeds of gardenia going to sprout? Suddenly, my heart moved.
My whole body seems to be full of electricity, and the warm current has produced upward pressure in my blood. I got up quickly, and I saw clearly again. Your eyes were full of joy. With your encouragement, I tried to try again. Your trust is the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, carefully watering the gardenia in my heart.
Perhaps the dust rushed too fast, and when I look back, I still stay at the beginning. Time flies, let me see your roots and hair hidden in your hair. I understand that no matter how the years go on, no matter how the world changes, your love for me will never break. The little drops of your love form the resultant force of love, which makes the gardenia in my heart jointing.
Boating on the lake, inadvertently, only heard a "pa", I know it's bloom's voice, it's bloom's voice. Your love is still going on, but my heart journey has entered the battle period. Take a nap at the post station, peel off a gardenia petal, and your affection for me is written on pure white paper. That is the voice of Gardenia bloom-"Gardenia blossoms, gardenia blooms, like crystal waves in my heart; Gardenia blossoms, gardenia blossoms, it is a kind of light green and pure love ... "
Chapter 3: There is a voice in my memory that is selected from 600 words, and it is called Grandma. This sentence is the biggest guilt in my life. Grandma died when I just learned to walk and was about to speak. ?
Grandma is so vague in my memory that I can hardly remember it. I was left with only a few patchwork pictures.
When I first met her, I was a stranger. She saw my hearty laughter, and in Suqian's words, this baby is really beautiful. There must be good prospects in the future. Say that finish, I took out some white rabbit toffee from my pocket. Maybe that's when I began to like white rabbit toffee.
Call grandma, xx come to me, call grandma. During those days at grandma's house, she repeatedly taught me to call her grandma. Later, I learned that grandma just wanted her eldest granddaughter to call her grandma before she died, which was her last wish.
Grandma was bedridden for a long time because of physical problems, but because my arrival seemed to give her strength, she used all her energy to make me laugh, help me put on my socks and shoes, and took pains to introduce me and call me an elder.
At that time, I learned to walk, and the small teeth in my mouth were like small bamboo shoots in spring. I only have a little teeth, and I can't understand what I say in my mouth. It wasn't long before I heard my mother say I was leaving. The next night, I finally learned to call my grandma. Grandma lay in bed and said with a smile, Good baby! There are two lines of tears hanging in the corner of my eyes. I don't know whether I am sad or happy.
Grandma's voice is like spring breeze, and singing is also very nice. She is also famous in the village. When there is a party in the local area, everyone will always invite her to sing, like the wind blowing in spring and the buds exposed by willows, which are beautiful and moving.
Although my grandmother's appearance in my memory is just a patchwork picture, the only thing I remember vividly is her words: Come, call grandma, grandma. Every time I hear someone else's grandmother teaching her little grandson and granddaughter, I think of my grandmother, who takes my little hand and sits by the bed with white rabbit toffee and tirelessly teaches me to call her grandma. A casual pang of sadness in my heart.
I will never forget grandma's sentence, which is also the most difficult sentence in my memory.
There is a voice in my memory. Every time I turn on the tap, I always think of that little thing, that little boy, that voice.
Passing the toilet that day, I found there was a rumbling sound inside, which was loud and loud, and a group of people were watching. I walked in curiously and found that the tap was gone, and the tap water kept rushing down and hitting the ground. There is a faucet on the ground. Tap water is like a dam that breaks its banks, and it is like a fierce waterfall hitting the ground.
This is a student in grade two or three. He grabbed the faucet and screwed it on the water pipe, but as soon as he came up, the water splashed out like a high-pressure water gun, wetting his clothes, and the others left in twos and threes. The little boy next to him, who should be his good friend, advised him to leave, but he said, "I can do it." So he picked up the faucet again and the cat bent down to twist it. The current was too fast, so it rushed down the tap and hit the ground. At this time, his friend advised him to leave, and he replied, "I can do it." He stood for a while and then ran out. I was wondering when the bell rang and I had to go back to the classroom.
In class, I was thinking about the direction in which he ran out ... Oh! I figured it out ... when I went to the bathroom after class, the faucet had been fixed-it turned out that he had gone to the maintenance man.
On the way home, I recalled the brave and clever little boy over and over again and said, "I can do it." Words. Later, I met all kinds of difficulties in my life. When I am solving a difficult problem, I think hard, but I can't. When I give up, I firmly believe that I can do it. So, I concentrated, with 12 points of concentration to do, and finally solved it perfectly; I feel that I have tried my best in the physical education exam, but the burden is still not ideal. With the belief of "I can believe", I tried again and finally succeeded.
I can do it. I still remember that voice. It is a kind of self-confidence, especially on the way forward.
Chapter 5: There is a sound in my memory. Walking in the rain, holding an umbrella, smelling the flowers, mixed with the fragrance of the earth, and the melodious but sad erhu sound came from my ear. I frowned and wondered: Is anyone playing the erhu in the rain?
Follow the sound, the erhu sound is getting closer and closer, and the curiosity is getting stronger and stronger. Is that him? An old man in rags, sitting on the ground, his head worn out?
Such a melodious erhu sound was actually pulled out by his calluses! My impression of him is greatly reduced, and I can't help but despise him. I paced coldly, put 10 yuan in the bowl in front of him and turned around.
"Little girl." Just as I was about to leave, I heard him stop me and couldn't help looking back: "Ah? Not enough? " I hate him from the bottom of my heart: greed! The old man stopped playing the erhu and just said, "I am an artist."
I raised my eyebrows with a slight sarcasm: "Oh? Artist? " His face sank: "Girl, artists are not beggars. Now I make money with my hands. Because at the beginning ... "
I didn't let him finish, so I interrupted him: "Oh! At first? If I had known today, why should I have! " I look down on the old man more and more: hypocrisy! "Didn't cherish time, wasted time, girl. I advise you: an inch of time is worth an inch of gold, but a thousand dollars can't buy an inch of time. " After that, he played the erhu again.
It's really a sentence to wake up the dreamer: an inch of time and an inch of gold can't buy an inch of time.
I can't help looking at the old man: that wrinkled face is a pattern engraved by years, and the wind and frost of years have made his hair white. More and more melodious erhu sounds are mixed with sadness and repeated feelings.
He is telling the world with the voice of erhu: an inch of time is worth an inch of gold, and an inch of gold can't buy an inch of time.
Time passes through our fingers, but we can never find it. When we find it, we want to catch it, but it has disappeared without a trace. Life is built by time, and the disappearance of time also means the end of life.
Youth does not allow us to squander; Our short life also needs to be cherished.
In the rain, there was melodious erhu sound, mixed with the phrase "an inch of time is worth an inch of gold, and an inch of gold can't buy an inch of time", which buried * * * in the depths of memory.
Chapter 6: There is a voice in my memory. The breeze brushed my cheeks. Dragonfly water, composed by Xia Chan; The gurgling stream is tinkling. That touch of scenery has always been in my heart.
Hua, a crisp sound of running water got into my ears, like a bright lamp, which attracted me at once. Huh? Isn't this the stream where my cousin and I used to play when we were children? I looked inside and saw that the small place that was once full of peanuts had become a barren land. The original clear river has become a little dirty, and a breeze has blown, which can't help but bring my thoughts back to the past.
"Little sister, let me take you to a fun place." At that time, when my little cousin saw our family coming to play again, she skipped over and said to me, "I told you it was fun there." Do you want to go? " Her eyes seemed to be shining, and her little hands kept gesticulating. "Go for a walk, what are you waiting for?" My heart suddenly moved, and my cousin and I jumped out of the room like two rabbits with anxious eyes. We trotted all the way, and I'd rather hear her talk about how interesting the stream was.
"Wow, there is a stream here. Why didn't I know before? " Seeing this scenery, I can't help but marvel. A willow tree is quietly leaning against the stream, and the tender and slender wicker is swaying in the wind, just like a girl's thick hair. Long wicker strokes across the water, causing ripples, and the slight sound of streams flowing over rocks in low-lying areas adds vitality to this beautiful scenery. "Let's go down quickly, there are small fish below." Cousin urged, oh, well, I quickly took off my sandals and jumped into the stream. The coolness swept the whole body from the soles of the feet. It's so comfortable that I can't help jumping out of the water. Water splashed everywhere, and my pants were wet and I didn't want to stop. The sky above the stream echoed with our laughter and the sound of water falling into the stream.
Since then, every time I go to my cousin's house, I will drag her to the stream, sometimes catching fish and sometimes catching tadpoles. With the singing of the stream, we often forget the time when playing and can't help but go home and be scolded. I like the feeling of streams running over my ankles. I once wanted to take a bath in that stream, but once it really restrained me a lot. Our sisters who are going to wash clothes by the river are all wet, and a basin of clothes is lying quietly by the river, but we dare not come out in the bridge opening. The sound of running water seems to be laughing at us. He missed the business. Finally, my cousin trotted home and brought clean pants. We changed them carefully in bridge opening.
The sound of running water brought me back to reality. The faint sunset came obliquely, and the scenery in front of me was a little blurred, only the voice of the heart and spleen echoed in the ear over and over again. Nowadays, the tile-roofed house has become a place with many high-rise buildings. With the passage of time, the stream is still there, flowing slowly and slowly, becoming a beautiful dream in my memory.
It whispered, calling me to recall my carefree childhood that day, and I couldn't help laughing when I accidentally remembered it.
Chapter 7: There is a voice in my memory. That is a voice that contains too much despair and sadness!
One night, I was walking leisurely on my way home when I was startled by a burst of barking. I looked inside and saw a man standing in front of a big dog not far away, with a scowl on his face and a bad foot on the dog. I was shocked. What happened between the dog and the man? To find out, I secretly hid behind a tree and looked at men and dogs.
The man was tall, dressed in leather, holding two newborn puppies in his hand, while the big dog on the side was barking in disorder. I saw it struggling to jump up and down, and its breasts were shaking. I knew at once that this man was stealing a puppy. No wonder the bitch barked at him crazily-she wanted the puppy back from him.
The man was so angry that he kicked the bitch away, but the bitch's eyes became more and more firm, as if there were glittering objects shining in the afterglow of the sunset. I am shocked that this mother can fight to the death with someone stronger than her for her children. That bravery and persistence deeply shocked me, and I couldn't help but respect the dog mother.
Soon, the bitch was exhausted and kept breathing on the ground, but her eyes were still staring at the man, showing a trace of despair. The man felt guilty when he saw those eyes, and hurried away with two puppies, chanting something as he walked. When the bitch saw the man leaving, she instantly stood up and pounced on the man. The man was thrown into a shamble, stared at the bitch, stood up straight, stepped up, and left the bitch far behind.
At this time, the tears in the bitch's eyes finally welled up. She looked at the man's back, and her eyes showed her blessings and apologies to the dog baby, as well as her despair and pain of not being able to protect her children. It gave a long bark! How much bitterness and indignation are mixed in this! That voice, through flowers and trees, floated with the wind, got into my ears and branded in the depths of my soul. I suddenly remembered what my mother said to me: As a mother, the most painful thing is not to protect my children.
I looked at the mother dog with respect and watched her leave sobbing. How much despair and sadness is contained in that voice! This matter is still etched in my memory.
Chapter 8: There is a voice in my memory. The breeze swept across my forehead, which aroused the voices in my memory.
When I was a child, behind my grandmother's house, it was so green that it almost swallowed me. Spread my eyes and decorate my heart. At that time, my carefree, mysterious and ingenious nature attracted my not-so-generous footsteps and longed for the outside world. Every time my figure gradually disappears in the endless green sea, time passes without leaving a trace like running water. At that time, the slightly bent back always appeared at the end of the stadium on time when eating, and "Come back for dinner, xx!" " "
Suddenly aware of the reduction of free time, there is always some disappointment in my heart. At that time, I didn't understand my grandmother's painstaking efforts and insisted on fleeing. The shadow of the sunset, gorgeous the whole sky, but under the gold powder is a small black spot, extending to the end.
I don't know how long it took, but the inexplicable endless fear in my heart surrounded me like a flood until my voice "came back". The angry grandmother was full of tenderness when she heard the sound coming from behind. "You should fight, you should fight." She grabbed my collar and hesitantly put down her raised hand. Young me, still full of fun, I didn't understand the faint worry and helplessness in grandma's eyes. Grandma and I became a unique scenery in the sunset.
Dazzling time, quietly slipping through your fingers. But I don't know when, taller than grandma's lean body, I left her old man far behind. Ruthless time has changed a person a lot, a lot-
The green wheat field turned into concrete in the roar of bulldozers, and then returned to grandma's house. Everything in my memory was indifferent. Heavy homework makes my free time less and less. When I was a child, I found the wheat field in a flash, which was so precious, because there were beautiful memories of my grandmother and me in it. Now I'm sitting on the side of the road alone, quiet.
Another sunset, grandma on the ridge is much shorter, and the hard study and life have squeezed the time of "communication" between grandma and me in the wheat field. The golden sky covered my grandmother's eyes, and she slowly approached. Somehow grandma's head was dotted with dots, which opened the flower of my memory. She sat beside me slowly and watched the sunset with me. The breeze brushed the sleeves of the memory years and surrounded me and my grandmother "xx, go back to dinner" without stint. There seems to be no anger, no blame, but a rare warmth.
I got up and walked slowly through this time carefully cut by years with my grandmother, and my thoughts drifted in the swaying golden color. On the way home this time, it was my big hand holding grandma's little hand. At that slow, slender, golden end, I seem to hear her urgent "come back for dinner, xx!" " " .