Beautiful prose of the sky

Selected beautiful essays describing the sky Part I:

When her daughter came home from self-study in the evening, her mother was leaning against the bed reading her favorite poems. Hearing the sound of the key turning the door, mother closed the book and leaned over her husband who was absorbed in writing. Her eyes are full of tenderness. Husband loves home and has no bad hobbies. He is a typical good family man. Every time he writes a material, he always has an expression, just like at work, but he is extremely gentle with her. Thinking of this, she showed a loving smile.

Her mother moved back to make room for her daughter when the sound of her daughter jumping on the sofa after dropping her schoolbag reached her ears. Every day when my daughter comes home, she is asked to pinch her shoulders and rub her back. Daughter's habit has become a compulsory course before going to bed every night. She knows that her daughter studies hard, gives her a hug every night and never gets bored. My daughter is her hope, and I always have a knot in my heart. I hope my daughter can fulfill her dream of college and appreciate the elegance of the college campus for her.

Tonight, my daughter didn't jump into the big bed as usual, but dawdled to the bed and spit out a sentence: Mom, I won't study after passing the proficiency test. Mother's open arms stopped in mid-air, ready to embrace her daughter fixed in bed gracefully like a swan dance. She froze, as if she had been punched, and didn't recover for a long time. Her clever daughter and painful husband have always been her pride. My daughter loves to study since she was a child. She didn't believe such words came from her daughter.

When the daughter repeated this decision again, the mother stopped the massage, and her left arm slipped off her daughter's back and rubbed her right hand back and forth, without any strength. My daughter must have sensed her abnormality and remained motionless in bed. In the past, my daughter would clamor for her mother to use some force.

After half a ring, the mother calmed down, combed her thoughts and asked her daughter softly why she didn't want to study. My daughter replied that she didn't do well in the mock exam and felt stressed and tired every time. She continued to ask her daughter about her future plans, and her daughter told her that she wanted to learn painting. She knows that painting is her daughter's ideal, but it is only her daughter's ideal. Since childhood, my daughter has told her many ideals. Although my daughter once said that she wanted to be a painter when she grew up, she thought it was just her daughter's whim. Until today, she doesn't know what her daughter's most mature ideal is.

Once, I slipped on my daughter's back, and my left finger unconsciously lifted the sheets, as if to lift the pain in my heart at the moment. She doesn't know when her daughter will leave. She only felt that her mind was empty, as if she had been evacuated by something, and her body kept shaking. I don't know how long she has been sitting like this. She tried to get up, only to find that her right leg was unconscious, sad for a long time, and her heart was twitching. Her right leg usually likes cramps and can't walk. She rubbed her right leg with her hand, then got up slowly and came to the study step by step. She didn't give her daughter an answer just now, and the first reaction in her mind was how to help. It is her responsibility to guide her daughter correctly, otherwise it will ruin her life.

My mother has no formal job, so she helps her family by doing odd jobs. She went to work from 8 am to 9 pm and stood 13 hours. When people reach middle age, their bodies are far less energetic than when they were young. Fatal waist muscle injury tormented her and often made her unstable. She knows that tonight's ordeal will affect tomorrow's physical strength. However, for the sake of her daughter, she dared not sleep. Outside, birds croak in the field, neon lights dance noisily in downtown, everything under the sixth floor is blocked, and it is a little bleak and quiet around, only her heart is like surging waves. As a mother, you must do something for your daughter. My daughter once said that a child's aura is the capital that parents show off. She thought that when her daughter grew up, she would finally understand that what she did today was not for loving her mother's face, but for her daughter's life!

She wants to tell her daughter that no matter what decision her daughter makes, she will support it as long as it is the goal her daughter chooses. However, it must be based on culture. My daughter's decision now means giving up, including the painting she wants to learn. Today, with the rapid development of high technology, the realization of any ideal requires the most basic cultural knowledge, and the education that my daughter is receiving now is the cornerstone of realizing the ideal. Although my daughter often cites a celebrity with a low academic background, she succeeded in doing one thing. My daughter only saw their final success, but she didn't know how hard these people worked after leaving school and how hard they studied in society. Instead of learning and doing as they do, we should go our own way step by step.

After marriage, my mother always thought that only her husband was her sky, enjoying the happiness that her husband gave her. However, since having a daughter, there has been something in her subconscious, which is vaguely rooted in her heart. As her daughter grew up, she became stronger and stronger, and that kind of consciousness occupied more than half of her heart. Today, when her daughter told her that decision, she suddenly realized that the vague shadow that had been entrenched in her heart was finally clear: with her daughter's growth, the emotional sky has tilted, her husband's sky has become indifferent, and her daughter has become the most important sky in her life! It is the spiritual pillar on which she lives!

Today, my daughter's depression completely overwhelmed her. For an instant, she felt that her sky had collapsed and nothing could support her confidence in life. After her daughter said this, she thought a lot about what she wanted to say to her daughter, but she didn't know how to say it. As a mother, she knows her daughter best. Her adolescent daughter is like the glass she cleans every day, which is transparent and fragile and must be carefully cared for. She is afraid that inappropriate words will touch her daughter's sensitive nerves and hurt her tender and fragile heart. She can only feel the pain in her heart, and the terrible pain of being a mother makes her almost faint.

Time has passed zero, and there is a thin breathing sound from the closed door opposite. Mother knew that her daughter had fallen asleep. She sat in front of the computer and tapped her fingers on the cold keyboard. The knocking sound is like knocking on her chest on this quiet night. She seemed to hear her daughter's incessant snoring. She thought it was her daughter's inner struggle. Tonight, whether it's her sleeping daughter or her sitting at the window, it's a restless night for both of them.

Mom frantically searched Baidu for videos that she thought could best express her thoughts. She never remembers the channel when watching TV, so that she often asks her father and daughter which channel a TV series is on, which is also the topic that father and daughter have been laughing at her. She remembers reading a true story column not long ago. Today, her daughter's behavior is the reappearance of the festival that night. She can't remember the name, channel and host of the protagonist. It's just that I remember clearly what the magician said at the end of the program. She wanted to tell her daughter through that video: a person's cultural background reflects his ability, academics are not a single individual, disciplines are related, and the research of each discipline needs comprehensive' cultural literacy'. Without a solid cultural foundation, in the broad and profound scientific field, just like a blind child learning to walk, he can't climb to his ideal height.

My mother finally found the video, and her heart almost jumped out, as if her daughter understood her voice and was very excited. She stretched her limbs and felt sleepy. She thought, she can't be as depressed as her daughter, nor can she teach her father's mistakes. Her daughter is wandering at the crossroads of life. As a mother, she can't give up. She must be strong, do her mother's duty, guide her daughter well, help her daughter through the ignorant cognitive period, and point out the correct direction of life for her daughter. Thought of here, her heart relaxed a lot, and she walked firmly to the bedroom. She firmly believes that when she wakes up tomorrow, it will be the blue sky reflected by the morning glow!

Selected beautiful essays describing the sky Part II;

One day in autumn, the gray sky finally turned into a familiar blue.

It takes a little effort to be liked. When I went out in the morning, it suddenly rained heavily. In the rain, pedestrians are in a hurry, people who don't have umbrellas run at sixes and sevens, and people who do have umbrellas don't walk smartly. If it rains too much, it is inevitable to wet your shoes. In the park in the autumn rain, there are no grandfathers and grandmothers who used to do morning exercises. However, in the park, the yellow ginkgo and maple leaves that are on fire collide with each other, giving people a visual impact, instantly mobilizing the depressed mood into a warm tone, and my heart seems to be lively.

With a good mood, I arrived at the unit and the office was not cleaned up. Unexpectedly, a ray of sunshine broke through the window and exposed the sun! So according to the scheduled plan, I set off for Akita with my equipment. Along the way, the thick clouds in the sky that used to be like quilts have been slowly divided by the breeze and carved into works of different sizes and shapes.

After the autumn harvest, the fields lost their vitality and the huge golden carpet seemed to be hidden overnight. Those scarecrows who haven't had time to get out are faced with rows of straw sticks that hold their heads high in the bare fields. Some wet fields are dark and bleak, while those that have dried up are dazzling red, and the scene is like a mess after the war. Judging from the attitude, the straw stick seems to be the winner.

Find the right theme, target and angle, and record the busyness in the field with images. After the rain, the sky in Chu Qing is still a little gray, and the sun occasionally pokes its head through the cracks in the clouds and shines wantonly on the earth. The roaring mechanical sound, accompanied by the raised dust, is sketching another picture. According to the season, according to God's will. The seeds sown in spring have been harvested, and the vision sown in autumn will surely blossom and bear fruit in spring.

Busy day, no time to think.

In the evening, the breeze slowly, finally had a moment of leisure, so my companion and I walked aimlessly along the path at the foot of the mountain, and suddenly looked up and found that the sky was so deep and pure, and the morning sky was still gloomy and had disappeared from my memory. Things change rapidly, not to mention the weather.

It is said on TV that some cities in the north are always foggy. I haven't experienced it, but I can hear people living in those cities yearning for the blue sky from the news. Although the sky in Qujing is usually this color on sunny days, I still like this sky. This kind of blue, without any affectation, is like a calm ocean. Nothing can leave a trace on it, not be moved by the disturbance, not please others, not greedy for fame and fortune, and do whatever you want.

The last few clouds hang lightly on the horizon, which seems to be the edge of this blue ocean. No matter how the clouds are missed, they will eventually go with the wind and make the sky transparent.

The breeze calms the waves. A pond by the roadside has become a mirror, pulling the color of the sky, the bright sunshine, the shadows of birds and the trees by the pond into your arms. Without any modification, beauty and ugliness are faithfully restored. The sky can see its own blue, the sun can see its own colorful colors, birds can see its own wings, and trees can see its own beauty.

The companion couldn't help saying, "How beautiful!" But it woke up a group of birds by the pond and flapped their wings and flew into the sky.

Blue, blooming in autumn.

Selected beautiful essays describing the sky Part III;

I believe that I must not be the only person in this city who refuses to sleep every day for fear of time slipping away. In a corner, or in an alley ruined by time, there must be a person. She is as afraid of time slipping away as I am. She walks alone and enjoys loneliness as much as I do. She is as peaceful as I am and harmless to the world. I may never meet her, or we may meet, but it's just a slight scratch, deep and shallow, like shallow grass without horseshoes.

Whenever the sunset indulges in the gentleness of the sunset glow, I begin to look around, hoping that the fallen leaves will fall like butterflies one after another, and that the lonely evening geese will disappear silently in the endless Shan Ye. Who will sigh that the world of mortals is short when the sun sets?

In my own world, sometimes I don't know what to say. Maybe nothing is good. In this way, perhaps, only a beating note in the middle of the night will pluck the strings of your whole world, leaving a parting melody, and so on. Finally, you give everything and bury your head in tears.

Who is far away and who is near, silently, I am just a person, accustomed to the world without ripples.

In the dilapidated alley, at the end of the sunset, in the season when moss spread into loneliness, I listened to music silently, ate expired snacks in the canteen silently, free fantasy silently, surfed the Internet silently, and finally cured loneliness silently.

I don't know if I am a quiet person, and I don't know if anyone will like me. In the middle of the night, a person listens to his heartbeat quietly, and the blood in the atrium flows back to the ventricle silently, completing a trip quietly. On the trip, sometimes, I will unconsciously think of home. Perhaps it is because moonlight is an irresistible yearning, and it becomes melancholy to hold it tightly.

Whenever the gloomy embers sigh with lost sadness, the imprisoned words in the diary will be quietly opened. Open the dusty memories, in our age when our eyes are wet for youth, in our lost world, we are silently moved by life and words.

I like to look at the sky when the sun is setting and the sun is lingering. The wind, with the tenderness of dusk, waved goodbye to this day. I don't know, on the other side of the sky, whether there will be a person like me, on the street corner, quietly sighing these irreversible times.

A touch of sadness, like the fragrance of orchids, floats gently in this season. Perhaps, in my sky, I'm just used to it, and I'm slightly disappointed with the years.