Urgent essay on falling leaves back to their roots requires more than 800 words.

Updated on society 2024-04-24
2 answers
  1. Anonymous users2024-02-08

    Roots, which are the organs of plants, provide nutrients for plants and are the origin of plants. But it.

    In my heart, it is more than that, it is the origin and destination of human life.

    I was born in a small mountain village, there were not many people in the village, and my parents mostly went to work in other places.

    As a result, my grandfather and I were the only ones left in the house, and my parents would occasionally come back to see us. Grandpa was one.

    Teacher, because of his age, he had to retire. But he didn't choose to be in the city.

    I have to enjoy my family, but I want to return to this small mountain village. He ran an elementary school here.

    Classroom, giving lessons to the students in the village. But he didn't take a penny, and only occasionally accepted the fruits given by the students.

    So my family often has a lot of students, and it's very lively, and I got to know each other a lot.

    Multiplayer. Finally, it was time for me to go to school, and my parents came to pick me up to study in other places, and there were many of them.

    The secondary grandfather went out with them to have fun, but the grandfather never refused. I asked my grandfather privately.

    Why don't you go to the city with the bureau teasing me? I still remember what my grandfather had to say to me.

    He said: "This is my roots, I grew up in this land, and I will have my heart in middle age.

    Thinking about my career, now I want to dedicate myself to my place and help the children here.

    Son, for this is my root! I can finally get back to my roots! "At the time, I listened.

    I don't understand, grandpa just laughed when he saw this. Soon after, I went to other places with my parents, and for the first time, my grandfather's words triggered my thoughts about "returning to the roots".

    As time passed, I gradually understood what my grandfather said. At the same time, I also know.

    It's white, not only does grandpa want to return to his roots in the world, but there are also many Taiwan compatriots and overseas Chinese who want it.

    Falling leaves return to their roots, they are just because of something that makes them unable to return to this Chinese land for the rest of their lives.

    Death in a foreign land. There is so much so that some people don't know what they're following. They are pathetic.

    It's sad. At this point, I think they should be envious of Grandpa, because he has achieved it.

    How many people's lifelong wishes, grandpa is lucky. Thinking of this "falling leaves back to the roots" is once again there.

    My heart took root.

    Falling leaves return to their roots is a tradition of the Chinese. But how many people can achieve it, phase.

    There aren't many people who believe it! The root is the belonging of the people's hearts, and only when we find it can we make people.

    Life is more complete. Grandpa's roots are in his hometown, the roots of Taiwan compatriots are in the mainland, and overseas Chinese are following.

    country, and my roots are in **? All these things for me to find, and I hope that all the people of the world may find them.

    Own roots, fallen leaves return to the roots.

  2. Anonymous users2024-02-07

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    College Entrance Examination Full Score Essay: Falling Leaves Return to the Roots

    I don't know when I came home for dinner and encountered chickens and ducks on the table, my parents always insisted on giving up their wings to me, even if I said I was full, they still insisted. Until one day, when my father caught me again, he said almost inaudibly: fly farther in the future.

    I was stunned, with mixed emotions rolling in my heart.

    Choked in my throat with chicken wings that day, I already knew in my heart: leaving home is inevitable, and homesickness is inevitable. At the age of eighteen, I am a young swallow with strong feathers, yearning for the mountains and rivers in the distance, and yearning for the high sky.

    My wings will carry me away from the low mountains and trickling streams. But when I stop in the middle of the flight, my head will be turned to this, and my eyes will pass through the mountains and rivers to caress the mountains here, and the grass here and the dew on the grass, which is the water that washes away my weariness.

    Leaving home, missing home, and returning home is an inevitable human being, and it is also a mode of life. Although I have not set foot on the road to leave home, I also understand what a deep emotion it is, engraved in my heart and lingering, and even the traces of passing time cannot be washed away. Since ancient times, how many teenagers have said goodbye to their homes in high spirits, when their faces are wrinkled, their sideburns are dyed with frost, and when they return home, they don't know each other before they understand that the hometown has not changed, the homeland has not changed, but the heart is old.

    Touching the collapsed ruins and decaying tiles, decades of longing will come up, unload the strength, take out the tiredness, and bend down to cry bitterly.

    My clumsy pen may not be able to write the inextricable threads in their hearts. My eyes were busy imprinting the green hills and the babbling streams in front of me. My ears are busy recording the chirping of birds and warblers.

    This is the feeling that people who have not left home can get from homesickness. We are also full of spirit and ambition, but we don't know if we can return to this homeland, because now we can fly higher and go further. Therefore, I am willing to carve a knife first, deeply imprint the homeland of which pants into my heart, let it sprout and sprout, grow into a big tree, shelter me who is helpless during the journey, and share joy and emotion with me.

    I stood at the beginning of the journey, casting a look of nostalgia and greed at my homeland. It is silent, and I understand it, it is the silence of parents to the wanderer, the silence of the tree to the green leaves. There may be a blessing in this wordlessness, but I don't want to accept it.

    The big trees that grow up with the nourishment of my homeland are enough to accompany me on a journey through the landscape. I don't bless it, but I hope that one day when it returns to its roots, it will still stand here, standing tall and simple, and accept this fallen leaf.

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