Kitchen wild essay 500 words urgent

Is there a mistake?,This is the question of my mid-term exam that year.,I seem to be okay to write.,Two or three points were deducted.。。

How to write forgot. The following one was not written by me. Junior high school students.

Remember this day.

When my grandmother said that she was going to move from the old house to the building, my family rushed to help.

It is still this Dongshan with only one China Resources supermarket, or an old street dotted with all kinds of small shops, or this pawn shop with a cyan stone road, or this old house with a wooden door with all the paint has fallen.

Come on, hey, be careful! ”

Mom, do you want to take this away? ”

I was surrounded by the voices of my grandparents, my parents, and I was not so much here to help as to play.

When I walked into the kitchen, there were a few long, thick wooden sticks behind the door, and I remembered that when I was a child, I went to climb the mountain with my grandmother, digging wild vegetables, pulling bamboo shoots, picking wild strawberries, and I also remembered some small beautiful mausoleums on the side of the mountain road and the joy of looking into the distance to overlook the whole town.

I walked into the bedroom, and the high windows weren't letting in enough light to light the room. I remember being disobedient when I was napping here when I was a child, and I remember hiding with my sister in this eternal shade in the hot summer to play cards ......

Quick, be careful, there's one more thing. ”

Heck, don't bring this little thing! ”

They were still busy, and I continued to look for memories.

Walking into this small courtyard shared by three families, I still have the feeling of wanting to run here, and I don't want to climb up to the laundry table without coming down. The doorway, as always, the view, remember to like to secretly peel the red paint on the door. And every time you peel a little bit, you will never be noticed.

The river murmured, with a strange familiarity, and the place that seemed to have been walked a thousand times seemed to linger only in dreams.

Walking back to my grandmother's house, I was already putting the finishing touches on it, so I had to sit in the small living room, recalling the "click" of the old-fashioned radio on the table behind me, accompanied by the stiffness of my grandfather spinning the ball in his hand.

It seemed to be over because I heard my mother's voice calling me. I went out the door, got in the car, and watched the wooden door slowly close, closing all my memories as well.

I can't forget this day inadvertently, it seems to have become a door, heavy and thick, and I won't open it. On the other side of the door is all the future that I have to face when I go to middle school in Suzhou.