Driving A Taxi
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.
Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here
we might as well dance.
