August 8, 2016
Good morning. Today's post will be a bit different. A couple days ago I received an email that really moved me, and I thought I would share it here with you.
THE CAB RIDE (author unknown)
I arrived at the address that had telephoned for a cab and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be the last ride of my shift, I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up 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, looked 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 neighborhoods where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds.
She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that once had 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 the sun was cresting 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 answered. "You have to make a living," she said. "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. 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.....
At the bottom of this great story was a request to forward this ---- I deleted that request because if you have read to this point, you won't have to be asked to pass it a long. You just will. Thank you, my friend.
Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.
I thanked my friend for passing this story along to me. As I read it, I thought of how my grandchildren, Kevin and Jazzy treated my Aunt Lucy when we went shopping the other day. They did not grumble because she was old and slow, they chatted and laughed with her, held her arm when she walked, and helped her look for things she might want at the craft store. When we took Lucy home, the kids carried her bundles into the house, while helping her in to the house too.
Need I say how proud I am of those kids? (and my daughter and son in law who raised them?) I know they'll be good to me like that when I am old too. (they already are)
So, to my friend, thank you again. Big hugs, Edna B.