In daily study, work and life, everyone is familiar with composition. Composition is a narrative method that expresses the meaning of a theme through words. So how to write a good composition? Below are the excellent compositions about mother's hands that I compiled. They are for reference only. Let's take a look. Mother's Hands Excellent Essay 1

Those are a pair of rough hands. The ruthless years have imprinted deep traces of the past on those hands, and a thin layer of calluses has grown on the belly of the hands. These are mother's hands. I was stunned. The scattered things in life were magnified infinitely at this moment...

In winter, the wind is biting. I looked clumsy and clumsy wrapped in four pieces of clothing. But I couldn't bear my active nature. I was active all day long, and the clean clothes I just put on became dirty within a few days. My mother likes to be clean and can't stand me dressing dirty. She often teaches me this and that, but I always hear it in one ear and out the other, and I never hear it. My mother always processes some particularly dirty clothes by hand before putting them in the washing machine. The clothes are soaked in the freezing cold water in winter. The mother was half-crouching aside, slightly bowing her waist, and ruffling her clothes. The water was taken away from the bucket by the mother's hands, and flowed through the gaps between her hands in an instant. The foam accumulated little by little in the water. When the old foam burst, new foam floated up. The mother seemed not to notice the coldness of the water. She was still scratching the stains on her clothes, but she didn't notice at all that her hands had been washed by the cold water and became weathered. Her hands were a little stiff from the cold, and her fingers turned red...

After the mother finished washing the clothes, she turned around to prepare lunch. "Ah!" came an exclamation from the kitchen, "What's wrong?" I was startled, "It's okay!" my mother said, and I was so careless that I didn't notice anything was wrong. "It's time to eat!" my mother shouted loudly. At this time, I realized that my mother's exclamation just now turned out to be injured! There was a long gash on the mother's hand. At this time, I didn't care about anything anymore and hurriedly took a cotton swab to wipe the wound. But at this moment, I was stunned. Mom's teeth were clenched tightly, trying not to make a sound; her eyes kept closing, opening, closing, and opening. I knew my mother was holding back the pain and tears caused by alcohol. Seeing my mother like this, I couldn't help but move lightly. Another wound. "I thought to myself: The delicate hands that wiped away my tears when I was a child are gone, replaced by a pair of cold, rough hands covered with calluses." Thinking about how my eyes seemed to be covered by something. I couldn't see clearly. Suddenly, I felt something dripping on my face. It must have been my tears. My mother noticed my abnormality and hurriedly wiped away my tears with her hands. The hands were so cold and rough, but I felt that the hands were so gentle and delicate, just like the hands that gently wiped away my tears when I cried as a child, so Beautiful and gentle.

Mother’s hands are warm, beautiful, gentle and rough. Mother used her hard-working hands to take on the tedious tasks at home and support "half of the country." Excellent essay on mother's hands 2

Mother's hands are sweet rain and dew, nourishing my dry heart; mother's hands are steps, helping me climb to the top of life; mother's hands are like rulers, always reminding me Always move forward.

My mother’s hands are warm. I remember when I was six years old, one time I caught a fever due to play. My mother was as anxious as an ant on a hot pot. She gently picked me up with her hands. How could her tender hands withstand such a heavy weight? Sure enough, when I first got into the taxi, I could feel my mother's hands shaking violently, and my feet were accidentally sprained and swollen.

I was hospitalized, and my mother stayed by my side all night, unable to sleep. I felt really sorry for her, so I couldn’t help but hold my mother’s warm hand, feeling very safe. A few days later, I was discharged from the hospital, but my mother’s feet were swollen like bread. The doctor suggested that my mother take a X-ray, but my mother just took some plaster, staggered, and limped out of the hospital. That scene made me I will never forget it, I couldn't help but shed tears, and my heart was filled with emotion.

Mother’s hand is strict, and children’s growth is indispensable without their parents’ beatings and scoldings. I remember one time, I made an appointment with my classmates to go out to play, so I scribbled out my homework. In the end, I forgot to check it and ran out to play in a hurry. After I came back, I only heard the sound of "tearing" and "tearing". When I walked in, I saw that my mother was tearing off my homework one by one. I was angry and blamed myself, and I finished my homework in tears.

My mother came over and stroked my head with her hand, and said to me gently: "Baby, mom shouldn't tear up your homework. Stop crying. Be more careful next time!" After saying that, my mother kissed my forehead and smiled, and I smiled too, because I knew that my mother had very strict requirements on me, and I was wrong this time. I sent my neat homework to the teacher and fell asleep sweetly.

My mother’s hands are hard-working. I remember that day was the weekend. I thought my mother could finally rest. But my mother got up early, started making breakfast, tidying up the house, and went to wash clothes and go to the market in the morning. After shopping for groceries, I started preparing lunch again when I got home. My mother used her hard-working hands to make delicious dishes that were delicious and delicious. My mother's hands are like a machine that is constantly busy. I feel so sorry for her.

As time goes by, my mother’s hands are no longer as smooth and white as before, but those hands once held me and cared for me as I grew up with her tenderness. My mother’s hands lost their original beauty for me, but added to the beauty of motherhood and the greatness of motherly love. Mom, I love you so much! Excellent composition on mother's hands 3

Mother's hands are not beautiful, nor are they comfortable to touch, but they are the warmest hands in my memory.

Before I went to middle school, my mother would wash my hair. It is such a pleasure to recall the feeling of my mother gently caressing my hair.

One winter, after dinner, my mother began to wash my hair. She filled a large basin of water, put her hand into the water, tested the water temperature, and said, "It's just right." I bent down, and my mother gently wet my hair with water, and squeezed some shampoo into her hands and rubbed it. I rubbed it on my head a few times, saying that it wouldn't make me feel cold.

She rubbed it carefully, for fear of hurting me, and her movements were very gentle, like the spring breeze blowing through my hair, gently, softly, and warmly. Occasionally, my mother's hands would accidentally touch my forehead and ears. I could clearly feel that the calluses on my mother's hands were getting harder, which even made me a little uncomfortable.

Ever since I can remember, whenever I expressed my mother’s rough hands intentionally or unintentionally, I would always hear my father say: “Back then, your mother’s hands were so beautiful!” But I was very disappointed. I wonder why I never remember that my mother has beautiful hands.

My mother seemed a little tired and her waist was a little sore. She would straighten her waist from time to time and adjust her posture, but the movements of her hands were still gentle. My mother stopped rubbing, soaked her hands in water, and washed away the foam on her hands. Inadvertently, I saw the deep black scar again...

I remember my birthday one year. The maknae’s mother specially made a bowl of longevity noodles for me. I ate the delicious noodles made by my mother, but my mother accidentally poured boiling water on her hand... She still has a deep black scar on her hand.

My mother carefully washed away the foam on my head with water, from the base of my neck to my forehead, from my left ear to my right ear, every place was washed clean. Then my mother wiped her hands that were no longer so moist but still warm, wiped my hair with a towel, and then took out the hair dryer to dry me.

She held the hair dryer in her left hand and stroked my hair with her right hand, blowing from the root to the tip. Every movement was so gentle and skillful. The hair dryer warmed the base of my neck and ears, all the way to the depths of my heart. While my mother was tying my hair, I handed the hairband to her hand and said, "Mom, your hands are so beautiful." My mother lightly scratched the tip of my nose and said with a smile, "Little girl, please make me happy. ! ”

With the warmth of maternal love, I grew up and no longer needed my mother’s help in washing my hair. But my mother is always busy with things, and there are more and more calluses on her hands, and the deep black scar has never faded. Although my mother's hands are no longer as white as before, they have become the warmest and most beautiful hands in my memory. I said to my mother from the bottom of my heart: "Mom, my daughter will also wash your hair in the future..."