The Cab Driver and His only Passenger

This is a beautiful story!The Cab RideI arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a fewminutesI 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 stoodbefore me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veilpinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if noone had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered withsheets.There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on thecounters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos andglassware.'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcaseto 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.. 'Ijust 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 gaveme 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 ahospice'.I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don'thave any family left,' she continued in a soft voice.. 'The doctor saysI 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 thebuilding where she had once worked as an elevator operator.We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had livedwhen they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniturewarehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as agirl.Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building orcorner 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 lowbuilding, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passedunder a portico.Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They weresolicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have beenexpecting her.I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The womanwas 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 metightly.'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.. Behindme, 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 lostin thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if thatwoman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end hisshift?What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then drivenaway?On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything moreimportant 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 whatothers may consider a small one.PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID ~BUT~THEYWILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.You won't get any big surprise in 10 days if you send this to tenpeople. But, you might help make the world a little kinder and morecompassionate by sending.it on and reminding us that often it is the random acts of kindness thatmost benefit all of us.