"If I am not brave, who will be strong for me?" Yes, while my peers were still spoiling their parents, I was used to using this phrase to motivate myself.
I was born into a warm family with a virtuous mother and a hard-working father, but these days did not last long. When I was only 2 years old, mom and dad divorced and I was sentenced to mom. Influenced by feudal ideas and not subjected to too much cultural baptism, my grandfather and grandmother always thought that their daughter's divorce was a matter that made them unable to look up, so for a long time they were reluctant to take care of my mother. In desperation, even my mother, who was only in her early twenties, took me to live alone in a rented house.
In order to maintain our daily expenses, my mother worked a lot of work, but most of them gave up because they could not take care of me. Later, my mother had to find a sales job with relatively free commuting hours, so that she could have more time to take care of me when I was young.
When my mother went out to talk about business, she locked me in the rental house and let me watch cartoons or play with small toys. At first, I was reluctant to let my mother leave me to go out to work, but when I cried, my mother also followed the tearful appearance, which seemed to touch me when I was young. So later I stopped crying and didn't make a fuss, and quietly waited at home for my mother to come back. When I grew up, my mother apologetically told me that once she came home from business and found me lying in the kitchen cupboard, with a few cold rice sticking to the corners of my mouth, and the rice I was holding in my hand was not yet in my mouth, and I fell asleep.
All these years, Dad has always been a thorn in my heart, and I am afraid to think of him, but the more I do this, the more I miss him. As a young man, I didn't understand what difficulties he had encountered over the years, which caused him to be never heard from. He didn't pay a single point for the child support he said he was divorced; he never waited for a phone call from him on my birthday; he never brought a greeting during the New Year's Holiday...
When watching my little friend sell cute in his father's arms, I also miss my father, I will also fantasize about the appearance of being delicate in his arms; when watching my classmates have fathers come to the parent-teacher conference, I also miss my father, I will also fantasize about him sitting in my seat and communicating with the teacher about my bits and pieces; when watching the happy smiles of my classmates when they talk about their fathers, I also miss my father, and I will also fantasize that one day I can proudly tell everyone that my father is the best father in the world.
Perhaps, in everyone's impression, Dad is a being who stands tall, mighty, and holds up a piece of heaven for himself. But no matter how hard I tried to piece it together, it seemed that Dad had long since become a vague shadow. Although he did not fulfill the responsibilities of a father, I always believed that he loved me, but he had no choice but to suffer. Recently, he finally contacted me, and while I was happy, he brought the unfortunate news that he was sick and had a cerebral hemorrhage caused by high blood pressure. I was sad, heart-wrenching.
Mom remarried when I was seven years old. The family has an older sister and a younger brother. Mom and stepfather have to raise all three of us at the same time, and there are elderly grandparents to take care of, so I try to make myself a little more sensible in life. From the time I moved into my mother's and stepfather's newly formed family, I contracted my own daily breakfast, on the one hand, I felt that eating breakfast at home must save money than spending money on breakfast outside; on the other hand, I also hoped that I could learn more housework as soon as possible and help my mother and stepfather reduce the burden. Before entering middle school, cooking, washing dishes, mopping the floor, washing clothes, washing shoes, polishing glass, etc., almost all the housework has long been difficult for me.
Over the years, returning to my grandparents during the winter and summer vacations seems to have become an unspoken agreement between me and my mother. Grandpa had a leg disability, not only walking limping, but also in particular pain in his knees in rainy weather. Grandma is a hearing impaired person and often can't understand what we're talking about. I knew that my mother had not had much time these years, because she had to maintain all the expenses of the family, so he and my stepfather always worked hard day and night, so that there was not much time to spend with my grandfather and grandmother.
I took the baton from my mother, and from the first day of the winter and summer vacations, I carried my school bag alone and took the bus back to my grandparents' hometown. I will help them choose vegetables, burn firewood, dry firewood, pick peppers, cut pig grass, pull weeds... Over the years, I have become very skilled in almost all farm work.
I remember last summer, when the corn in the soil was ripe and the sky was dark, I followed my grandparents to the hillside to break the corn. I tiptoed and broke the corn from the tall corn stalk, then nimbly peeled off the corn husk and threw the corn backhand into the back basket on my back with great naturalness. One by one, even my grandmother praised me for the speed of breaking corn.
Near noon, the scorching sun hung high on the mountain, the cicadas made a loud chirp, and the sweat on my forehead flowed down like rain. The leaves of corn not only have small hairs, but when they come into contact with the skin, they will also make me feel a itch, and the most uncomfortable thing for me is that they will be like a sharp knife, cutting a series of openings in my arms, neck and other parts. There were also mosquito bites, which made me very uncomfortable. Despite this, I never flinched, and always waited until my grandparents said to go home, so I began to pack up the basket and take the initiative to put the corn in their baskets into my baskets one by one. I always want to try to lose a little weight for them through my own efforts.
"Diligence and ability to make up for clumsiness are good lessons, and one point of hard work is one point of talent." Hua Luogeng's words are my long-term attitude towards learning.
When other students are still annoyed and angry because their parents did not buy the clothes they want, I have long been accustomed to wearing warmth, supplemented by simplicity; when other students are still calculating because their parents take ten yuan less pocket money, I have long been accustomed to four frugal days with the same weight; when other students are still scolded by their parents for being addicted to games, I have long since lost any pressure from the outside world, I know that I am diligent and studious.
I like to "drill" and learn, always trying to make myself understand and nibble through every point of knowledge. To this end, I have to spend more time digesting and pondering any of the things that the teacher has said. Because I know that not fooling myself in my studies is responsible for myself. I like to use fragmented time to study, such as when I eat in the cafeteria, on the bus to school and after school, or when I go to the toilet. Although my mother did not insist on how many points I had to take, or how many places I had to take, I still did not forget to set goals for myself.
I like to compete with my past achievements, I will see myself as my opponent, and I will constantly motivate myself to work hard. Some of the students around them are afraid of exams, some are not willing to go to their weaker subjects, and some are afraid that their parents will pay too much attention to their own learning. And I don't have these troubles, because I know how to cheer myself up, even after carelessness, I never feel annoyed, but tell myself: "It's okay, next time just be careful." "Learning makes me happy, makes me happy, and I feel cherished."
Today, I am the class president. I know that this is both a teacher's little assistant and a heavy responsibility, as well as an example for my classmates. Therefore, I have always been "strict standards, high requirements" to restrain my words and deeds, and try to do every detail better. In the process, I will also encounter setbacks. For example, not long ago, I have always disliked crying my nose, but because of the lack of understanding and support of some classmates in my work, I feel extremely sad. Fortunately, the teacher gave me timely comfort, so I rearranged my emotions and decided to continue to do my best for the big and small affairs of the class.
Not having a single talent to come up with has always been a thing full of regrets in my heart. Every time I see or hear the beautiful dance gestures of my classmates, vivid paintings, gentle singing, beautiful piano sounds, etc., I always feel extremely envious. Countless times, if I wanted my mother to enroll in classes for me to learn talents, I was swallowed back by my life when I first came to my mouth. Because I know that my situation is more special, although my mother has calluses on both hands, but our lives are still stretched. Therefore, I have always consoled myself that "talents can wait until college to study in the club, and my most important task at the moment should be to do a good job." ”
Knowing gratitude is the source of happiness. I want to thank my mother, thank you for her inseparability to me, thank you for teaching me to live bravely, thank you for her little education for me; I want to thank the teacher, thank you for teaching me knowledge, thank you for making me understand the book, thank you for making me rich inside; I want to thank everyone who cares about and loves me, thank you for warming my young heart, thank you for your unreserved help, thank you for your daily love for me.
The future is very long, and I am willing to grow in a positive direction!