After waiting a few minutes

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 elderly woman 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 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 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.

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.

You won't get any big surprise 

in 10 days if you send this to ten people.

But, you might help make the world a little kinder 

and more compassionate by sending it on…

and reminding others that often it is the 'random acts of kindness' that benefit us all the most.

~ Author Unknown

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