In ordinary study, work, and life, when it comes to composition, everyone must be familiar with it. Composition is a narrative method that expresses the meaning of a theme through words through human thought consideration and language organization. . Do you know how to write a good essay? Below are the handwritings of mothers that I have collected for everyone. They are for reference only. You are welcome to read them. Mother's Hands Essay 1

When I was a child, I fell, and a pair of warm hands lifted me up; the proud hands that got 100% in the exam touched my head, asking me not to be proud; the exam When I failed the exam, a pair of encouraging hands patted my shoulders and said, "Don't be disappointed, just do well next time." Whose hands are these?

Those hands once gave me confidence. I remember that when I was eight years old, my mother taught me English. At that time, my pronunciation was not standard. I always felt that English was too difficult and I was very afraid of difficulties. Her hands gently stroked my head and said: "My child, there is nothing in the world." It’s difficult, but only if you are willing. You are a smart child, and as long as you study hard, you will definitely learn it well.” So, I learned phonetic symbols from the tape every day, and I quickly became comfortable reading English words. Those hands gave me confidence. .

Those hands once taught me the joy of helping others. I remember it was a weekend night, and I was watching cartoons with gusto. At this time, the door rang. My mother hurried to open the door. My good friend Liao Lei came and he came to ask me a question about mathematics. At that time, because I was afraid of wasting my precious time watching cartoons, I frowned. At this time, those hands patted my shoulders again and said, "Yanlong, you should take the initiative to entertain your friends when they come. It is the most basic courtesy. After watching the cartoon, you can take time to watch and explain the exercises to your classmates. Not only can you help others, but it is also a process for yourself to consolidate basic knowledge and deepen your understanding." I turned off the DVD player calmly and joined my classmates. Went into the study. Since then, I have become the "little teacher" of our class. While helping others, my academic performance has also improved.

Every night, those same hands guide me in my studies. Whenever I have problems in my studies, those loving hands pick up the pen again, scratch and write on the draft, and explain to me while writing. With the help of my mother, I developed it very early

I have developed a good habit of independent thinking, and I use the secret my mother taught me to solve problems - drawing line segment diagrams. Now, I rarely ask my mother. I use the magic weapon she gave me to overcome one problem after another in study.

Those hands keep the house in order and clean every day. My mother uses her hard-working hands to create a comfortable environment for my home. My textbooks, extracurricular books, exercise books, etc. are all given to me. I organized them into categories and always had them at my fingertips when studying. I enjoyed living and studying every day.

Now, you should have guessed it, this is my mother’s hand. Mother's Hands Essay 2

My mother is of medium build and has long hair that hangs down to her waist. Although she has an average appearance, she will always be beautiful and kind in my heart because she has a pair of hard-working hands.

Because of her hands, we can live in a house like a palace, because of her hands, we can eat all kinds of delicious food, and because of her hands, we can wear clean clothes. .

It’s Saturday again. Mom doesn’t have to go to work, and I don’t have to go to school. I happily turned on the computer and started chatting. As soon as I turned on the computer, I saw my mother picking up the linen cloth and wiping it left and right in the room. After wiping, he picked up the broom and swept the floor, not even a particle of dust was missed. After I finished sweeping, I put the dirty clothes in the basin and went to wash them. After seeing it, I felt a little ashamed, so I went to help her mop the floor, and then cleaned the house. After I was done, I continued to play on the computer. While I was playing, I suddenly felt very hungry. When I looked at my watch, I was already After playing for four hours, I ran to the kitchen to eat. I saw that my mother had just finished washing the two large basins of clothes and was mopping the floor. My mother was already sweating profusely because she didn’t want to see her mopping the floor. I was tired, so I was too embarrassed to say it when I was hungry, but my mother seemed to have noticed what I was thinking. She immediately put down the mop and went to cook. I happily went to wash my hands. When I came back, I almost fell down because the ground was very bare. This was In order to help me while she was cutting meat, my mother cut my mother's hand with a kitchen knife. I quickly asked my mother: "Scold me?" My mother said nonchalantly: "It's okay." Then she bandaged it roughly. I went to cook, and I saw my mother enduring the pain, with tears in her eyes. I felt very sad, but at the same time, I also felt an indescribable sense of pride.

Although my mother is not good-looking, she has a pair of hard-working hands and a pair of hands that have infinite love for me. I love my mother, and even more, I love her hands that protect me from the wind and rain, in order to give me Everything becomes rough by hand. Mother's Hands Composition 3

Everyone has a pair of hands. Some hands are dexterous, some are hard-working, some can draw, some can play the piano, and some can write. , some... And my mother has a pair of hard-working, warm and wise hands, which makes me feel the warmth of spring every moment.

Mom’s hands are relatively slender, because they have a lot of flesh, the skin is very delicate, white, and very elastic, so holding her hands is soft and comfortable.

My mother’s hands are hard-working. Every morning when I am still asleep, my mother has already gotten up and started a new day’s work. First, I went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for my father and me. After a while, a table of delicious and nutritious breakfast was placed on the table. Secondly, at noon and evening, it was my mother who used her hard-working hands to prepare breakfast for our family. Busy. Sometimes my mother accidentally cuts her finger and blood flows out, but she always stops the bleeding and continues to work. Mom never cried out that she was tired, and she never complained. She did the same thing day after day, year after year. My mother's smooth and tender hands have become rough, the backs of her hands have wrinkles, and her fingers have become enlarged. It is precisely because of mother's hard-working hands that our family is so warm and sweet.

I remember when I was in third grade, one night, I had a high fever. My mother didn’t sleep well all night. She kept wiping my forehead with a towel and using alcohol to physically cool me down. When my mother put her warm hands on my hot forehead, I felt much more comfortable. Under the careful care of my mother, my body temperature slowly dropped. My mother's not generous but loving hands gave me care and care. With these warm hands, I can grow up healthily and happily.

My mother’s hands gave me wisdom. Sometimes, when I have a question that I can’t solve, my mother will patiently explain it to me. During this process, my mother would point at me from time to time, like a little fairy dancing ballet. And with my mother's guidance and instructions, I gradually understood and grew up. My mother's hand helped me solve problems, helped me move forward on the road of learning, and reduced many detours I had taken.

It is because of my mother’s hard-working, warm and wise hands that nurture me and protect me that I can live a happy life. I love my mother, and I love my mother’s loving hands even more. Mother's Hands Composition 4

What is the most dexterous thing? What is the warmest thing? What is the most delicate? Haha, I can’t guess. The answer is revealed - mother's hands. Today, I will talk about my mother’s hands.

Some people say that rough hands are the hands of farmers, and some people say that thick hands are the hands of workers. But have you ever thought about what your mother’s hands look like? My mother's hands are neither thick nor thick. When placed next to my father's hands, the difference is obvious - they are much slimmer than my father's hands. Mom's hand lines are shallow, thin, white and tender, and her nails are very long, which are long for the abacus. There was a thick layer of calluses on the left side of the middle finger of her right hand and the tips of each finger, which were extremely hard to the touch. There are many small scars on the index finger and thumb of my right hand, which were scratched while sewing clothes.

My mother’s hands are very dexterous, and she can sew clothes without hesitation. On that day, my mother sewed pants for me: It was a Sunday, and my friends and I were playing football downstairs. No! The ball was stolen! I hurriedly chased after him, but in the process of chasing, I accidentally lost my footing and fell to the ground. There was a hole in my trousers. The hole was not big, but the surrounding soil of the hole was dyed black by the soil on the ground. My mother didn't blame me when she saw the torn trousers, but silently mended them for me, and said to me, "Be careful next time." I still remember that my eyes were moist at that time.

My mother’s hands were warm. Once I was sick and had a high fever of 40.1 degrees. I was only semi-awake at the time, my eyes were foggy, and I had a severe headache. At this time, a pair of hands brought hot water and medicine and asked me to take it. My hand was suddenly held by a pair of hands. What a pair of warm hands! Although I can only see the rough appearance and feel the warmth from these hands, I know that my mother is the owner of these hands.

My mother’s hands make me feel the great and extensive maternal love. Ah, I love my mother's hands, but I love my mother even more. Mother's Hands Essay 5

My mother stays with me all day long. She takes care of everything in the house with her beautiful hands. She accompanies me as I grow up, which makes me appreciate her hands. A new understanding.

Nimble hands At night, under the shadow of candlelight, my mother always lowers her head and concentrates on her hand-knitting. You know, I wear gloves, scarves, hats, sweaters, and trousers. They are all made by my mother. What I like best is sitting next to my mother, looking at the two needles in her hand, taking the thread with her right index finger and wrapping it around the needles, and then picking up the other needle. Just like this, one by one, exquisite knitted products emerge. And you're done. My mother can also sew cross-stitch. When sewing, an embroidery needle in her hand goes up and down quickly, like a silver light shuttle back and forth, during which beautiful wealth and auspiciousness are quietly embroidered. Now my mother’s cross-stitch masterpiece is still hanging on the wall of my house. Every time my neighbor’s aunt sees this cross-stitch, she always praises my mother’s skillful hands!

The hard-working mother is always busy at home, sweeping the floor with a broom, wiping the stove with a rag, tidying up the place, and wiping the stove with a rag. Organize and tidy up... Thanks to my mother's hard work, the house is always neat and clean. While cooking, with the sound of a symphony of pots and pans, the aroma of the food soon drifted into my nose. Looking for the aroma, what was on the dining table was the delicious meal. Mom’s pair of The hard-working hands keep the house in order and make my life feel warm!

Gentle hands Sometimes my mother’s hands are as gentle as the willow wind blowing on my face.

When I was a child, my mother was very busy at work and had no time to take care of me. She sent me to my aunt's house every day, but my mother took me back to live with me every night. As soon as I saw my mother, I ran out of the house quickly and threw myself into my mother's arms. Inside, I put my face tightly against my mother's face. My mother's hands held me tenderly and gently stroked my head. I would fall asleep in my mother's warm arms. At that time, I was always looking forward to my mother appearing in front of me every evening, longing for my mother's gentle hands to hold me and slap me! Nowadays, my mother's hands have become rough, and age spots are gradually appearing on the backs of her hands. Looking at my mother's once deft, hard-working, and gentle hands, and the hands that support the whole family, I can't help but feel sad and guilty. We must study hard and let our mother's hands regain their former beauty! Mother's Hands Composition 6

When I just landed, it was my mother who picked me up with her delicate hands and made me laugh. She, who was once young, also had a happy smile on her face. .

When I started babbling and called my mother for the first time, she touched my head with her hand and said to me with a smile: "Good boy, you are now sensible!" But I didn't listen. You know, I stood in front of my mother stupidly, with my head raised, and I just looked at it stupidly. Why are my mother's clothes so beautiful?

Finally I went to elementary school. My mother held my chubby little hand with her big warm hands and accompanied me into the gate of elementary school. When my mother sent me into the bright classroom that belonged to me, When I handed my hand to the beautiful female teacher, I cried, loudly.

But you still left and left me here alone, mom. Without the warmth of your palms, I feel like I have come to the ice and snow zone. I miss your hands so much. . . . . .

Now, I am a middle school student. Maybe I don’t care about your hands that once brought me warmth. Maybe, I don’t miss that I have the care of teachers and classmates when I am studying abroad. Greetings, why do you want to miss your hand?

I don’t know why, that rainy night, I was nestled under the quilt, thinking about some messy things. What happened to the girl next door’s feet that were burned yesterday? I heard that she burned her feet yesterday when she fetched water for the teacher. A big piece of skin fell off! And today, my good friend who was taught by the teacher in class seems to be still dissatisfied. Thinking about my elementary school classmates, I miss him so much.

Suddenly, on a whim, I thought of my mother’s dark spots on her dry and aging skin, like shed snake skin. Mom, when she wasn’t married to her dad, her “ten fingertips were like bamboo shoots, and her wrists were like white lotus roots.” I can’t even describe my mother’s beautiful hands when she was a young girl next door. I just. . . . . .

I miss my grandma’s hands all the time. Although they are close at hand, as a daughter, I should miss my grandma’s hands, which have raised me for so many years.

The sunset has ended, and I am already in my mother’s arms, and my mother is stroking my head with her dry and warm hands. At this quiet moment, oh, my mom’s. hand. Mother's Hands Essay 7 Although mother's hands were injured, she still had no time to idle. What other children can get, my mother also made it possible for me with her hard-working hands.

I remember one time, when I came back from kindergarten, my mother said that we should eat fish at night. I was very happy, because I like to eat fish the most. But when my mother brought a plate of fish to the table, I pouted and complained: "Everyone else eats big fish, but my family often eats small fish." Then I started crying. My mother quickly took me into her arms and told me: "Although these fish are small, they were caught one by one by my mother when she went down the river ditch!" As her mother said, she showed me her hands, which were scratched twice when she caught the fish. Bloody mouth. I stopped crying immediately after seeing it, and covered my mother's injured hand with my little hand distressedly. My mother also held my hand tightly and smiled happily.

My mother not only often catches fish, but also goes up the mountain to pick lychees. My mother let me know: We can get what rich people can buy with our hands. They bought vegetables, and we grew them with our hands: they bought fish, and we went to the river to catch fish...

I grew up and went to elementary school. At this time, my parents decided to go to Shanghai to start a small business. On the day of departure, I was extremely sad. Mom walked in front, I ran behind, and grandma chased me behind. Mom finally stopped and picked me up, kissing me again and again on my tear-stained face. Mom put me down, stroked my head with both hands and said, "Lulu, listen to grandma at home and study hard. Mom made money in Shanghai and will support you in middle school and university in the future." After that, she left without looking back. . When we reached the small bridge by the village, my mother kept waving to me, and I waved to my mother vigorously. I think my mother must be crying at this time, but she just doesn’t want me to see it.

My mother arrived in Shanghai and called me every week. At this time, I felt that my mother was beside me, holding me tightly with her warm and strong hands. Every autumn, my mother will knit a sweater for me. At this time, a warm current will surge in my heart, and the scene of my mother busy with business during the day and knitting sweaters at night will appear in front of me.

Now, my mother finally couldn’t stand the pain of missing me anymore and took me to Shanghai to study. Every night, she would always put her arm around me with one hand and look through my homework with the other. At this time, how happy I am!

Mom’s hands are so warm and trustworthy.

I really want to say to my mother: "Mom, I love you forever!" Mother's Hands Essay 8

These hands are not the broadest, but they give me the most strength in the world; they are not the most delicate. , but it gives me the deepest tenderness in the world; it is not the hottest, but it gives me the most reassuring warmth in the world. These hands are mother's hands.

Once I had a persistent fever and stayed in bed for four or five days. No matter I was asleep or awake, my mother would always touch my forehead with her hand from time to time. I was made uncomfortable by her cold hands, and lost my temper and said, "Don't touch me, and let me sleep well." My mother didn't say anything, she just looked at me and said it was okay. Later, my fever finally subsided, and my mother touched my forehead again. I felt much better now. Looking at the fatigue in her eyes after worrying for days, I felt my mother's hands exuding unprecedented warmth. I'm even a little grateful for this high fever, which made me know that my mother's warm hands are always by my side.

When I was in second grade, my class organized a spring outing for our classmates and our parents. During a running game, several classmates fell on the grass. Their parents rushed over, helped them up, and dusted off the mud and grass clippings from their bodies. I accidentally fell down, and it didn't hurt, but who wouldn't want to be like the other students, waiting for their mother to help them up with her hands and enjoy her care? But my mother was standing far away, just looking at me with a smile, and had no intention of coming over. I felt lost and wronged all of a sudden, and couldn't help crying... My mother didn't say anything at the time, but just chatted with me all night after returning home. She said that if she falls, she has to get up by herself. She doesn’t need to expect anyone’s help from anyone, including her mother, for minor setbacks. I didn't understand what my mother said at the time, but now I understand that sometimes my mother stretches out her hands to warm me; sometimes she doesn't stretch out her hands, but it's actually me who gives me strength.

With the warmth my mother gave me when she stretched out her hand, and the strength she gave me when she retracted her hand, I will slowly grow up and become a strong and confident little man. Mother's Hands Composition 9

"Feifei, don't leave! Your shoelaces are untied!" My mother caught up panting and helped me tie my shoelaces. Only then did I realize that my mother’s hands were not as beautiful as before.

My mother’s hands are rough and not as delicate as before; my mother’s hands are ugly and not as beautiful as before. My mother's hands are always red, I don't know if they are from the sun or the cold; I don't know if they are cut by a knife when cutting vegetables or pricked by needles when cutting vegetables; there are many calluses on my mother's palms. It’s the mark left by long-term labor!

I have loved roasted sweet potatoes since I was a child. One winter, I thought the sweet potatoes were too hot and wanted to eat them in a hurry. I had no choice but to take off my gloves and put them on for me. I held the hot roasted sweet potatoes and ate them with relish. When I got home, I discovered that my mother’s hands had cracked due to the cold wind. Perhaps, this is how my mother's hands became rough.

One time, my mother accidentally cut her hand while trying to prepare a meal when I came home from school, but she continued cooking without even having time to buy a band-aid. When I had a delicious meal, my mother only ate one steamed bun and a bowl of porridge and then said she was full. Then she put her injured hand into the water that was ice-cold enough to wash my clothes and rice bowl. Looking at my mother's busy back, tears welled up in my eyes... Maybe this is how my mother's hands turned red.

In late autumn last year, my mother started making cotton-padded clothes in order to protect me from the cold in winter. Even when my hand was pricked by a needle, I refused to stop. My mother’s time for reading and relaxing was also used to make cotton-padded clothes for me. Finally, my mother made the cotton-padded clothes before the cold winter came. When I put on the warm cotton-padded clothes, my mother flattened the clothes with her hands and smiled happily, while she only had the thin sweater on her body. Perhaps, this is how mother's hands grew calluses.

My mother’s hands have accompanied me through ten years of life. My mother’s hands make me feel the warmth of love. My mother's hands have become rough and ugly over the years, but I will always love my mother's hands, and I love my dear mother even more! Mom's Hands Composition 10

"Mom, mom, I scored 100 points on today's math test! I'm better than the monitor, hahaha!" Mom gently scratched my nose with her hand and said, "You Ah, don't be too proud! I want to praise you this time!" "Yes, arrogant soldiers will be defeated, but there must be some reward!" I put my hands on my hips and said, "What reward do you have?" What kind of reward do you want?" "It's not too demanding. Can you cook me egg soup, braised pork with pickled vegetables, green beans, and hairtail?" "Of course! You go home and do your homework first."

At about 6 o'clock, my mother walked in and said to me: "Ke'er, it's too late, otherwise I won't have the hairtail! The remaining three dishes will be enough to fill your stomach!" After hearing this I didn’t know what was going on. I was a little unhappy. I pouted and said, "It’s rare for me to get 100 points in the exam and ask you to reward me, but you didn’t do what you said." My mother’s face turned red and she was about to open her mouth. I said something and swallowed it. I thought my mother was going to show off her power, so I quickly lowered my head to do my homework. Mom turned and went back to the kitchen.

After a while, a familiar smell of braised hairtail penetrated my nose. I seemed to see attractive pieces of hairtail on a white plate, fried to a golden color on both sides and dotted with red pepper. , green garlic shreds, exuding a unique fragrance... I hurried to the kitchen and wanted to taste it first. Suddenly I slowed down. There was a napkin wrapped around my mother's left finger, and a large red blood stain oozed from the paper. It suddenly dawned on me: My mother’s knife accidentally cut my hand while cutting vegetables! Tears welled up in my eyes, and I slapped myself hard. Finally, the tears fell. In order to fulfill my wish, my mother actually... I wiped away the tears, walked quietly behind my mother, and hugged her: "Mom, I'm sorry, your hands..." I Lift mom's hand. My mother's hands were so rough, with lines and lines of veins everywhere, and a few scars, which were extremely ugly. I remember when I was a child, my mother’s hands were so delicate, warm, and beautiful, and they felt so comfortable when touching my face! Mom patted me on the shoulder: "Little fool, it's okay, it's just a minor injury.

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No matter what happens to those hands, I will always love them!