Publisert av: For the Little Prince - Per | november 17, 2008

The Cab Ride

An online friend of mine sent this to me…I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did…

The Cab Ride

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, 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.

You won’t get any big surprise in 10 days if you send this to ten

people.

But, you might help make the world a little kinder and more

compassionate by sending it on.

Thank you, my friend… Life may not be the party we hoped for, but

while we are here we might as well dance.

———————————-
Sent by: *SANDY*


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