Topic essay all-in-one -(Essential Edition)

Author: Chen Jiangong, Tan Tan, Bi Shumin, Gao Hongbo, Chen Shixu, etc. / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2006-07-01
Features: When I was young, I loved green, as it always made me see something. During art class, I enjoyed using green to paint every piece of land. But that green was lifeless—it lacked vitality and hope, no life or sunshine, and no inspiration or shock. One day, at my grandmother’s house, my gaze accidentally fell on the windowsill: a thriving spider plant with lush, dewy green leaves that stretched out over the edge of the dark brown pot and covered it densely. A slender stem hung down, bearing several smaller spider plants beside it, swaying gracefully and contentedly in the gentle breeze. In the sunlight, those small leaves glowed with a translucent green, trembling slightly, revealing a simple yet dynamic charm. I was even more amazed and asked my grandmother, “Grandma, can you give me a spider plant?” Grandma smiled lightly, “It hasn’t grown yet, and it’s so delicate—it won’t survive.” It was too small, with only three or four leaves and a root system no bigger than half a fingernail. I planted it in a small bottle, changing the water daily, and letting a little sunlight wrap around its body. Days passed. Fortunately, it didn’t wither or dry out—I just changed the water, not daring to hope for much. After a week, then two weeks, one day when I picked it out of the bottle as usual, I couldn’t believe my eyes! Against the light, I clearly saw a tender root bud bursting from the base. Was that really true? I stared, stunned—it had actually done it! Its leaves had become even paler, as if it had poured all its strength into nurturing this precious bud. A huge wave of emotion washed over me, moved by the struggles of a life striving to show its existence to the world. Yes—I suddenly understood something, it was a life! This was life interpreting its power, its existence to the world. Days still passed at their own pace, and I watched the spider plant. The warm sunlight warmed the small bottle on the table, nurturing its growing body, unfurling each new leaf. This green spirit, its dewy-green beauty—wasn’t it all because of life? Isn’t every life beautiful? It poured out its vibrant green day by day, gradually becoming a lush landscape, just like its mother, revealing an increasingly elegant demeanor—its mother’s elegance. It was the continuation of its mother’s life! When it had grown out over a dozen leaves, it was already the second year. By then, the spider plant was graceful and elegant, swaying gently, placed in an exquisite box, hanging down with another surprise of life. I still vaguely remember visiting my grandmother’s house and finding the original pot of spider plant already withered and dead. Grandma said casually, yet with a hint of regret, “Well, flowers are like that—they’ll wither when it’s time.” But I was stunned—withered? I remembered it from a year ago, so elegant and delicate, brimming with life, radiant! Fortunately, my spider plant still survived, as the continuation of its mother’s life, allowing that elegant charm to remain in the world. In that moment, I understood the last lesson of life: its impermanence, cruelty, and the beauty it contains. Now, it’s still thriving, and I won’t forget planting one of its branches, letting it continue as the continuation of its mother’s life. P24-25