The Drive
Adapted from: https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=328417280130680&set=a.325764680395940 Pulling the cab near the curb, I honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be the last ride of this shift, I thought about driving away, but instead, put the car in park and walked up to the door. I knocked.. I could hear something slowly being dragged across the floor. Then the sound stopped. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice.
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 1940’s movie. By her side was a small suitcase. The home 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, sat a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she asked. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist her. 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.
‘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.’ As she spoke, I discreetly 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 pause in front of a particular building or at a corner and she sat staring into the dim light of early morning, saying nothing. Just as 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 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 moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
I squeezed her hand, and as I walked through the dim morning light, a door shut behind me. It was the sound of the closing of a life..
I didn’t pick up any more passengers that next 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 only once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We are conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware, and beautifully wrapped in what others may consider small.
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 we can touch others and be touched by others in meaningful ways.
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