recently discovered this story on the internet. I did adapt it slightly inasmuch as it was originally written in a first person style. It is purported to be a true story, but even if it is not it’s message is unquestionably righteous as well as inspiring. Enjoy!
Twenty-five years ago, Steve drove a cab for a living. One day he arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But Steve had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, he always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needed his assistance, he reasoned to myself. So he walked to the door and knocked.
“Just a minute,” answered a frail, elderly voice.
Steve could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80’s stood before him. 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 asked. Steve took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took his arm and the two walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking Steve for his kindness.
“It’s nothing,” he replied. “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 they got in the cab, she gave Steve an address, then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?”
“It’s not the shortest way,” he answered quickly.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.”
Steve 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.”
Steve quietly reached over and shut off the meter. “What route would you like me to take?” he asked.
For the next two hours, they drove through the city. She showed Steve the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. They drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had Steve 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 him 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.”
They drove in silence to the address she had given Steve.
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 they pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. Steve 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,” Steve said.
“You have to make a living,” she answered.
“There are other passengers.”
Almost without thinking, Steve bent and gave her a hug. She held onto him tightly.
“You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said. “Thank you.”
Steve squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind him, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
Steve didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. He drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, he could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if he had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, he didn’t think that he had 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.
“I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble.” – Helen Keller
Have an AWE-full Weekend!
William J. “Bill” Bacqué