When I was a child, I used to wonder why my mother always came home late, her hands rough from work and her clothes carrying the faint smell of the streets. While other kids bragged about their mothers being teachers, doctors, or businesswomen, I would quietly whisper, “My mom cleans the streets.”
I didn’t understand then, but I do now — she was one of the unsung heroes who keep our world clean while often being invisible to it.

Every morning before dawn, while most of the city still slept, my mother would tie her hair, put on her orange uniform, and whisper a prayer:
“God, let me make this world a little cleaner today.”

She never complained — not about the cold winters, the scorching heat, or the people who would walk past her as if she didn’t exist. She smiled through exhaustion, because to her, dignity was not about what job you do, but how you do it.

I remember one winter morning when I begged her not to go to work. She was sick, coughing heavily, but she smiled and said,
“Sweetheart, if I don’t go, someone else will have to clean double. Everyone’s work matters — even mine.”
Those words never left me.

Today, as I stand beside her, taking this photo on her birthday, I feel nothing but pride. This woman — my mother — has taught me more about strength, humility, and love than any book or teacher ever could.
She never asked for much — not luxury, not recognition. Just respect.

If you see someone cleaning your street today, please remember: they’re not “just a cleaner.” They’re the quiet guardians of our cities — the reason we can walk in clean spaces every day.

 If you’d like to make my mom smile on her birthday, leave her a