Thursday, November 23, 2006
Subject: The Cab Ride- A beautiful and touching story
"Happiness is not a destination but a day-by-day journey"
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One night I took a fare at
2:30 am, when I arrived to collect, 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, and 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, 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 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 during 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.
source: e-mail from Marlia
what we could have been, 8:05 PM.
