Every day, I wake before the sun.
While the city is still wrapped in darkness, dreaming under soft blankets, I’m already out there — brushing the sidewalks, collecting what others have dropped, smoothing the streets so that when the world wakes, it can start fresh. 🍂✨
The air is cold and quiet. Streetlights flicker like tired eyes. My boots echo softly on the asphalt, a rhythm known only to those who rise before dawn. People rush past, still half-asleep, faces buried in their phones or headphones, eyes fixed straight ahead, as if I don’t exist — as if I’m just another shadow, another piece of the pavement.But I exist. Behind this uniform, there’s a family waiting for me at home. Bills that never stop. Dreams I tuck into a drawer each night. And a small voice at school, proud and bright: “My dad helps keep the city clean.” That keeps me going, even when my back aches, when my hands blister, when my legs feel like lead. 💛
I see it all — the forgotten cup in the gutter, the crumpled receipts, the lost toys. I lift, sweep, carry, and sometimes, in those silent moments, I imagine the day ahead. I picture the children stepping on clean sidewalks, the commuters glancing around without knowing, the world moving forward, unaware of the hands that made it possible.
I don’t ask for applause. I don’t need recognition. All I hope for is a look that meets mine, a small smile, a “Good morning, sir,” or even a soft “God bless you.” That’s enough to remind me that I am seen. That I matter. 🌟
Next time you pass a street cleaner, pause for a heartbeat. Behind that uniform is a story of hard work, quiet sacrifice, and love for the life that continues outside the job. A “good morning” doesn’t sweep the streets, but it can lift a little of the weight from a tired soul.
So I keep going, long before the city wakes — because someone has to. Because even unseen, even unnoticed, every small effort makes the world a little brighter. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough. 🍂💫