Kneel for an essay entitled 18 years old.

As a father, facing the birthday of 18, I thought of such a day and such a night. ...

In early winter, the warm sunshine boiled the trees that had been green for a year by the West Lake. Whenever this colorful season comes, I feel that the cold wind not only blows off the burnt plane leaves, but also blows up a green leaf in my heart-my daughter's birthday is coming. This year is even more special, because it is his 18 birthday.

As a father, facing his son's 18 birthday, I think about one day. ...

1991April 26th, when I just turned 18. Alone in Beijing. How to celebrate your birthday? Cakes, wishes and birthday presents were not popular at that time. On this unusual birthday, my thoughts are flickering like candlelight. Ah, after all, it's 18 birthday. There are always some ideas. So, I made a special trip to the photo studio in Wangfujing and took a two-inch photo.

"Hold your head high, open your eyes and smile!" An art photographer, simple mechanical instructions. Facing the expressionless camera, I finished a mechanical smile.

Flat head, a khaki lapel shirt, lined with a deliberately wide face. I studied the photos carefully, and my mind was comparing with another image-me in the mirror above the faucet in the water room-I often looked at the mirror alone and mobilized all the nerves on my face until I was satisfied. Soon, my mother looked at the photo and said, "It looks like Zhuang Zedong."

In this way, the owner in the photo commemorates his 18 spring with a two-inch black-and-white photo. At the same time, he also bid farewell to the turbulent childhood and adolescence and began his adult life with a heroic "Zhuang Zedong" face. ...

As a father, facing my son's 18 birthday, I recall such a night. ...

18 years ago today, I accompanied my wife to the delivery room. We looked at each other with deep love in our eyes. She turned and walked forward-she knew there was a fiery blessing behind her, and she wanted to bring a little life and a brand-new world to our home.

After three hours of anxiety, a "angels in white" flashed by with her child in her arms. "It must be him (her), my child!" I am confident at the moment.

Soon, the "angel" came out from the inside. I greeted him and asked timidly, "Is it a man or a woman?" She was busy changing shoes, and without looking up, she only whispered, "It's a girl ..."

Ah! I thought I heard a bell ring at dawn. Thank god! I have a daughter, and I am a father!

Because of this night, every day of the next 18 will be spent in nurturing, pulling, exercising and communicating ... of course, it will be accompanied by happiness, joy and good hope. ...

As a father, facing the birthday of my daughter 18, I thought of such a day and such a night. I gave them to her as a gift, and I hope she can accept them and cherish them.

/kloc-when I was 0/8 years old, I said to myself: when I was a child, I often thought, when can I grow up? I was 18 years old before I knew it. It feels incredible and unreal.

Helpless growth

Growing up, let me move from happiness to melancholy.

Eight years old, it was a season when spring flowers were in full bloom. The warm sunshine laid a golden carpet on the way to school. The crystal dew hangs on the tip of the leaf, and the green of the leaves is intoxicating! I am like an agile swallow, with a cloth bag on my wings, walking through the golden rape field, leaving a cheerful footprint on a mossy stone bridge and sprinkling sweet songs on this lovely land. Occasionally I met an old man with a smile and said, "Good boy, be an official when you grow up!" " "My loud voice soared into the sky:" No, I want to be a PLA man! Defend the motherland! How handsome! "Whenever this happens, I can see myself in military uniform in my mind, and then I will go to Java happily.

Once upon a time, my ideal was held up by the golden sun. I insist on getting up early, washing my face and feet with cold water, thinking that I can put on my dream military uniform. But the old man walked so fast that he basked in half of my sun. When my homework was falling, my childhood dream was out of reach on the other side of Shushan, and I began to realize the helplessness of reality.

Fifteen years old, originally in the flower season, but in the long night. I came to this city because of my study. I have been wandering between school and home at two o'clock and one line. I have walked on that wide concrete road thousands of times. If it is intentional, it should know me! Although the roadside flowers are specially arranged in patterns, they are very ornamental, but I only caught a glimpse of a vague piece, and there is no trace of flowers passing through my nose! Street lamps in the city, rows and rows, are not as dazzling as the sun in the country. I stopped singing a long time ago, and the burden on my shoulders suppressed my singing. I always walk with my head down! Whenever my sight is full of blank concrete, I imagine there is a cliff in front of me. If you can, you can, and if you can't, it's over. Yes, if someone asks me my ideal, I will answer: "get into a good high school!" " "Then depressed to the ground.

Time flies, and the growth is suffocating. What did I get from growing up? I got a book full of poems, but I wrapped myself in a cocoon with a book cover, leaving happiness and the sun in my heart outside. Who can tell me that I will break out of the cocoon again? What can I become?

Pass it on to people who need care.