Write a clear weekly diary of 270 words.

Tomb-Sweeping Day, it's raining. Like naughty children, the big ones and the small ones are weaving obliquely in the air, covering the vision and people's hearts. Tomb-Sweeping Day is also a hazy season, right? Grave-sweeping, hiking, crying or rejoicing, is it a contradiction that we cherish the lost and pursue the new?

In the rain, I got on the bus and set out to sweep the grave. The window has also become hazy, looking out through it, a piece of green, a piece of red, a piece of yellow, fuzzy color with a layer of gray. You can't see the outline, and the scenery is as elegant as the artistic conception. With the passing of a little thing, the destination is getting closer and closer. There is a traffic jam. Yes, on this day, everyone can't help but rush to a goal, a yearning. They got off and walked, the road was muddy, their shoes were wet by oncoming raindrops, and they looked at the small mounds and red soil in the distance, which were uneven and had huge depressions.

Entering the cemetery, there are many tombstones, the marble is solemn, and ducks swim in groups in the clear water and rain, touching people's heartstrings. Is it a prelude? Holding an umbrella, I bowed three times and my heart was blank. It's not that I don't miss the people who left, I just want to be stronger, because people can't live in the past. The old man shed tears, sobbed or cried silently, and their pursuit was about to stop. They can take off those disguises and express their ideas naked. I looked at their wrinkles, pale faces, red eyes, old backs, and unfinished tombstones, waiting to accompany them for a lifetime.

Reality is so cruel that it hits our hearts again and again. In real life, we are deeply hurt and forced to put on a mask, becoming more and more hypocritical, unable to remember the original direction, and pursuing clarity as always. People who leave find the quietest home, remembering them is to recall the past and find their original direction and goal, perhaps it is a pause to sort out their mood before resolutely moving forward.

So it is still for a better tomorrow, or for the pursuit of the future. Hold back and stop the pain at the moment when the tears condense. The past and nostalgia are not for indulgence, but for a better tomorrow. Let this rain soothe and clean you, because there is still a long way to go tomorrow. Our goal is still in our hearts and will never be lost. Qingming is a rest, not a stop. One day we must work harder than we do now.