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Author Unknown
The Taxi Ride
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 90s 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
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, 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 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 the way to the 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 over 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 the 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 had 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.
"Change the
world with one random act of kindness at a time." |
