Unforgettable that orange red
Text/Xu Haoran
(Web Photo)
Every year from April to October, on the way to and from school, you can always see a piece of lingxiao flowers climbing over the wall. It does not have the tall trunk of the pine cypress, nor the fragrance of the roses, nor the rich and atmospheric of the peony, but every day when I pass by, I can't bear to look at the Lingxiao flower that is not squeamish at all. Under the long vines, the vibrant orange trumpets are low-key hidden between the green leaves, a cluster, the opening is brilliant, but it is not in contention, so quietly open, from spring, all the way to autumn, this is a unique scenery on that road. Looking at the orange-red patch, a figure hovered in my head, which reminded me of the cleaners around us, who got up early and greedily to escort the cleaning of the city, and braved the cold winter and heat.
I remember that last summer we returned from a trip to the Arctic Village in the northeast, and the time was more than four o'clock in the morning. I was so sleepy when I came out of the train station. The sun had just revealed a dim light. My eyelids fought fiercely. I grunted, drank a whole bottle of water, and was about to throw it in the trash when an old voice came from not far away: "Little girl, don't throw it." I stopped, and the man said, "Come, give it to me," and I glanced at a cleaner standing there in the dim light. With the help of the light, I could see her in its entirety: a gray hair pressed under a yellow hat, a little sweat falling from her forehead under the brim of the hat, and a stream of wrinkles carved down the years. A pair of tired eyes, the wrinkles on her face accounted for most of it, and she was smiling kindly at me. She wore an orange overalls on her thin body with speckled stains. Next to her was a small orange tricycle about the same color as her clothes. I walked over and handed her the empty bottle. A deeper smile appeared on her face: "Thank you. Goodbye, kid. With that, she got on her tricycle and went on to her job.
Looking at her distant figure, my eyes were moist, and tears were dripping and swirling. Every morning in the early hours of the morning, when we were still asleep, the cleaners got up at 3 o'clock, put on their bags and braved the cold and heat, and cleaned every corner of the city. From three o'clock to six o'clock, three hours, whether it was windy or rainy, they needed to clean the city of her face, to clean every stain, and it was they who made the city look radiant. But the traces of time have left indelible vicissitudes on their own faces and bodies. She was tired from work, she did not dare to stop, and she had to rely on this dirty and tiring work to support the family. This thin back left a lingering mark on my mind, and the corners of my eyes gradually became moist as I thought about it.
I appreciate the cleaners because they are industrious; I appreciate the cleaners because they are tired but never give up; I admire the cleaners because they contribute themselves without complaint or regret. On another April day on earth, the lingxiao flower had sprouted. I began to look forward to April's tail, and when I passed the densely packed sky flowers again, the wind gently tugged at the flowers...
The busy figure of the cleaner, and the lingxiao flowers on the wall, the unforgettable orange red, is so dazzling. In their own way, they decorated our beautiful city, our home.
【About the Author】About the author: Xu Haoran, a fifth-grade student of Liaocheng Yizhong Chinese School, a member of the school's 10,000-volume literary club, whose works have been scattered in "Luxi Poet", "Mountain Pomegranate", "Qilu Literature", "Shandong Poetry", "Learning to Strengthen the Country" platform, published in "Little Reader" and "Youth Poetry Journal", and won the first prize of Liaocheng City and the third prize of the national essay contest respectively.