I arrived at the address where someone had requested a taxi. I honked but no one came
out. I honked again,nothing. So 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 1940s 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 knickknacks 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, and 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 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. '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 neighborhood 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 gotten 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.
THIS ONE WAS EMAILED TO ME BY A FRIEND AND MIGHT THOUGHT TO SHARE IT WITH YOU, HOPING TO DRAW ATTENTION AND GIVE A LITTLE MOMENT TO PONDER ON.
IT MOVED ME.......I REMEMBER MOM!
AND FEW YEARS FROM NOW.....ME!
.gif)
![](http://<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/236/661A339BD4B63F31A532E47E9AB78C48.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a>){kind=small}
