When it comes to people worthy of admiration, the first thing that comes to mind must be great scientists who have made great contributions to mankind, great heroes who gave their lives to defend the motherland, or world champions who struggled hard to win glory for their country at the Olympic Games. But what I want to talk about today is an ordinary person, doing a trivial job. He is the cleaner in our yard.

The cleaner is about forty years old, short, dark and thin, and seems to wear khaki uniforms all year round. Early risers can always see him stepping on a tricycle and busy emptying the big black trash can in front of the building. Soon, the tricycle rose like a hill. At this time, I am always worried that the garbage mountain will collapse, and the small cleaning union struggling to push the cart will be injured or buried. Although the cleaner has been working in the yard for two or three years, I can still see his busy figure from time to time, and there is always a shy smile on his mouth. Everyone is already familiar with him, but not many people greet him and no one wants to know his name. Me too, until a rainy Sunday morning.

Early that morning, my mother took me to the remedial class as usual. When I went downstairs, I found the cleaner cleaning up the garbage in front of our building. He stood in front of the tall trash can and tried his best to lean forward and take out the garbage bag at the bottom. The autumn rain is cold, and his raincoat looks light and thin. Finally, the big black man was washed away. He straightened up, looked at the bucket for a while, turned and rode on his tricycle hill, pedaling hard. Just as he passed me, a disobedient garbage bag fell, and he quickly stopped. I picked up the garbage bag carefully and said, "Uncle, here you are." "Thank you, thank you, little friend!" I heard a string of grateful thanks, with a thick nasal voice and a hoarse voice. After uncle jumped down and took the garbage bag, he quickly hid aside. "I have a bad cold. Don't give it to you." He rubbed his black and dirty hands and smiled naively at me.

I feel my heart trembling slightly. With such a bad cold, he still insisted on working in the rain and was as careful and meticulous as usual. This is a far cry from the fact that I don't want to go to school because of a minor illness and don't want to go out when it rains. That rainy morning, sitting in a taxi, I kept thinking about the figure of that uncle struggling to pedal the car. His job is very ordinary, and some people even think it is very low. Maybe the uncle himself is not satisfied with this kind of work. However, he knows that he can only do this job. After accepting this job, regardless of spring, summer, autumn and winter, regardless of the wind and rain, he worked hard to do it well. Don't such people deserve our admiration like those great scientists and heroes?