The number on the stairs is 800 words.

In normal study, work or life, everyone is familiar with composition. The composition must be elaborated around the theme and the same theme. Don't ramble, the theme is lax or even without a theme. Have no clue when writing a composition? Below is my 800-word composition behind the stairs. Welcome to reading. I hope you will like it.

Late at night, on the stairs, the dim light illuminates the stairs leading to the top floor, and a black figure is reflected on the wall, which is particularly conspicuous.

Yes, this number is unique. It was my mother who carried me home. Because I was absent-minded when I walked in the morning, I slipped down the last stair and sprained my ankle.

Normal people will disappear on the steps in a few minutes, and my mother, who was not small from the beginning, went behind my back and slowed down a lot. One step, two steps, three steps ... Mom's steps are getting slower and slower.

"Mom, do you want me to come down and walk for a while?" I whispered in my mother's ear.

"No, no, I'm young! How can it be so boring so early! Say that finish, my mother pushed me up again.

In fact, I know very well that my mother is not as energetic as young women in their twenties and thirties. Different from the past, she is full of vitality and energy. Now, don't carry me behind my back. Even she has to rest several times when climbing Qianfo Mountain, not to mention my weight at the age of ten.

After a few steps, I couldn't help asking, "Mom, take a rest before you go!" " Too tired ... "

"No," gasped the mother, and then said, "I'll be home soon. Persistence is victory! " Mom is also cheering for herself.

I looked up and saw fine sweat seeping from my mother's forehead, and her hair was mixed with a few knots made of silver wire. She tried to breathe smoothly. My mother, straight back bent, my mother, the pace has become heavier, my mother. ...

I didn't seem to pay much attention before, and my mother seems to have aged a lot. A cold wind blew and messed up mom's usual neatly combed hair. I closed my eyes and let my mother's hair brush back and forth. I lay tightly on my mother's back, feeling the warmth it conveyed. I know that even on my mother's thin shoulders, there is a world, a selfless world and a world of love. Looking back, for such a long time, my mother's shadow is still reflected on the wall. It is like a ray of sunshine shining on my heart.

Perhaps, you will miss the warmth of spring, perhaps, you will miss the warmth of summer. But I will never forget that early winter. On the stairs in the moonlight, maternal love is like a ray of sunshine, warming my heart. ...