The Taxi Ride

I arrived at the address and honked the horn.
after waiting a few minutes I walked to the
door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a
frail, elderly voice.. I could hear something
being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in
her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print
dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it,
like somebody out of a 1940's movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment
looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the
furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knick-knacks or
utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware..

'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said.
I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to
assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I
told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I
would want my mother to be treated.'

'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said.
When we got in the cab, she gave me an address
and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly..

'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry.
I'm on my way to a hospice.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice..
'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached
over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city.
She showed me the building where she had once worked as an
elevator operator.

We drove through the neighbourhood where she and
her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She
had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had
once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular
building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness,
saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly
said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'.

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was
a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway
that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up.
They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door.
The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her
purse.

'Nothing,' I said

'You have to make a living,' she answered.

'There are other passengers,' I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.
She held onto me tightly.

'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she
said 'Thank you.'

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning
light.. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life..

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove
aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.
What if that woman had got an angry driver, or one who was impatient
to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked
once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything
more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve
around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully
wrapped in what others may consider a small
one.


PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID,
OR WHAT YOU SAID ~BUT~THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER
HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL

Author: Unknown