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Tissues Handy?
Posted by
PEGASUS
(VIP) 16 Jan 2005 11:52am
THE CAB RIDE
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.
When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark
except for a single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would
just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away.
But, I had seen too many impoverished people who
depended on taxis as their only means of transportation.
Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to
the door. This passenger might be someone who needs
my assistance, I reasoned to myself.
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 80'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, 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, 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, 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.
Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are
here we might as well dance. Every morning when I open
my eyes, I tell myself that it is special. Every day, every
minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.
cab ride
Posted by
(VIP) 16 Jan 2005 12:06pm
That is truly special Peg
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