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THE CAB RIDE

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  • Britgal
    replied
    That was a really beautiful story Patticake, thanks for sharing it, hugs Iris grouphug

    Leave a comment:


  • Cottreau
    replied
    That was great. Thanks so much for sharing!

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  • dixiefireball
    replied
    that was lovely thank you for shareing it. wink grouphug

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  • vm
    replied
    Love that one. Thanks for sharing it.

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  • patticake
    started a topic THE CAB RIDE

    THE CAB RIDE

    :THE CAB RIDE
    Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.
    When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building 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, 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,
    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
    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
    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, 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 it to ten people.
    But, you might help make the world a little kinder
    and
    more compassionate by sending it on.
    angel: angel
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