Primary school composition: 350 words in my hometown after 20 years.

Mother's Day is coming, and the streets and alleys are filled with the fragrance of carnations, as if waving to passers-by, "It's time to bless mom".

There is a middle-aged woman beside her, staring at a carnation in a daze. Does she want her children to send her one? My eyes shone with the light of asking for credit, and my expression was the same as my mother's. I suddenly trembled: My mother and daughter have grown up so big that I have never sent you a flower.

In my childhood memory, I blame my mother because she didn't give me a warm and happy home and a happy childhood like other people's mothers.

My mother is a typical professional woman. She is hardworking, thrifty and methodical, but her mother has a bad hobby-nagging, so she and her father often quarrel. Therefore, as long as I can remember, my mind is full of "smoke of war" and "chaos on the battlefield". How sensible I am, how can I judge people's color. Every time after that, I cleaned up the battlefield, cooked with tears in my eyes and comforted my illness. So, I formed a habit. Every time I hear loud talk or hawking, I feel inexplicable palpitations, thinking that my mother is nagging my parents to quarrel. This habit was slowly changed when I left home to study far away. So my dislike for her has been deeply rooted since I was a child. Naturally, every time she quarrels with her father, I will blame her inexplicably and ignore her in a rage. Calling her noisy disturbed my study and made me fail the exam. Sometimes, my father and I scold him together. How ignorant I was when I was young. ......

Later, I found out that my mother was so sad. She is just a weak woman struggling on the road of life. A wife who devoted her youth and body and mind to her family doesn't understand. She also needs love, too much love and care, and who gave it to her? Her parents? Her husband? Her children? No, they just asked her for it and trampled on it without stint. Who really cares about and understands her? Mom, my mom, why didn't you tell me about your pain? I have hurt you more than once. How can I forgive myself?

It's time for me to do something for my mother. If I want to raise my son and leave him alone, I will regret it all my life. I went to the flower shop and the dazzling carnations were in full bloom, as if welcoming the arrival of summer, just like my mother's smiling face. The poor inherit the tradition. Like thousands of mothers in Qian Qian, Qian Qian, our mothers are worried about waiting for their children. They have devoted all their body and life energy to this, giving all their love and heart to their families and children, with no regrets. In spring, silkworms will weave until they die, and every night, candles will cry dry the wick. "What a beautiful carnation! How much maternal love you have!

We put ourselves in a quiet enough place to think about whether we are a good boy in life, whether we are too selfish to forget our mother, and whether we have no regrets when we look back on the road of life. .....