Let’s
start 2014 with a sweet lesson on patience, a virtue we have to practice every
minute of our life because we never know when we unexpectedly become a blessing
to someone.. <3
A
NYC Taxi driver wrote:
(Source: elderhelpers.org)
I
arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked
again. Since this was going to be my 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, 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 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 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 neighbourhood 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.
