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New Year's Weekly.
In my anticipation day by day, the New Year has finally arrived.
People were suddenly busy. Small stalls selling fireworks also came out.
Doing business, the streets and alleys are a boiling scene. On this night, from time to time, a few families would light fireworks and set them off in the sky. Sometimes a few naughty kids come too.
Joining in the fun, he threw the "throwing cannon" in his hand and threw it to the ground, causing the earth to cry out in pain. Every house puts a lamp.
Turn it on, and some people are watching TV; Some people are eating reunion.
Rice; The sky was full of colorful sparks, and the ground was full of thousands of red lights.
My friends and I were telling jokes and stories together, and I suddenly remembered a poem in my heart: "The sound of firecrackers is a year old, and the spring breeze brings warmth into Tusu." Thousands of households always replace the new peach with the old one.
Yes, in the lively sound of firecrackers, the unforgettable old years were sent away; How many warm spring breezes are sent to people with smiles on their faces.
Here comes the New Year. We were a year older, and our homes were open.
Doors and windows let the bright sunlight shine into the house on the first day of the new year. In the sound of firecrackers, there will be no noisy gongs and drums, cheerful instrumental music, and hearty laughter.
I am a year older, I should be more sensible, my mother and father have put so much effort into me, I want to study hard, and when I grow up, I will win glory for my parents and the motherland!
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I don't like bright reds, I don't like fresh and elegant light blues, and I don't even think the heavy pickle yellows are good. Although some of these colors are gorgeous and noble, and some exude an obscure smell, I like the clean and pure white, the white of grandpa.
The whiteness in my eyes is my grandfather's gray hair. My mother told me that my grandfather used to be a factory manager, and once because of work, he worked for a week, and almost didn't sleep every day, and when he looked in the mirror after work, he suddenly found that his black and shiny hair had become almost white, but it was too late to dye his hair, and he put himself into work again. Once I asked my grandfather:
Grandpa, why don't you dye your hair. Grandpa said humorously: "In the past, no one let me sit on the bus with black hair, but now that my hair is gray, everyone gives me a seat, is it necessary for me to dye my hair black again?"
Then, I just smiled. But I know that my grandfather didn't have time to dye his hair because he was busy with work. So I decided that when I grew up, I must be a person who thinks of my grandfather and is meticulous about his work.
The white in my eyes is my grandfather's white clothes, and when my grandfather took the clothes, I undoubtedly found that although there were only a handful of clothes in his closet, almost all of them were white: white sweatshirts, white shirts, and white coats. Although grandpa was born and grew up in the city since he was a child, the rendering of the city did not pollute his purity.
I love white, maybe it's my grandfather's influence on me!
The whiteness in my eyes is my grandfather's pure and noble character. When I was a child, my grandfather occasionally took me out to play, and once, we were on the bus and we both had seats. This is, a pregnant woman came up, and before I could react, my grandfather took the initiative to give up his seat.
After another stop, a gray-haired old woman came up, and my grandfather saw that no one would let me, so he simply asked me to stand up, and although I was a little reluctant, I finally stood up. I looked at my grandfather's resolute eyes, and I didn't dare to ask him. When I was a child, I was puzzled by this matter.
But in retrospect, my grandfather's white and noble character may have touched many people the moment I stood up.
The color in my eyes is white, the purest color in life.
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