Hi ((((Family))))

Got this in an email today and thought I would share it with you all.

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THE CAB RIDE


Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One night I 
went to pick up a
fare at 2:30 am.

When I arrived at the address, the building was dark 
except for a
single light in a ground floor window.

Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk 
once, but I
had seen too many impoverished people who depended on 
taxis as their only
means of transportation.

Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the 
door.
This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I 
reasoned to
myself.



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 
80'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 s hut 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.


Life may not be the party we hoped for; but, while we are 
here, we
might as well dance.

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Such a great story and reminds me so well how important it is for me
to listen to what my inner voice is telling me and to treat everyone 
I encounter as who they are...a child of God.

Have a great day everyone! 

David