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This is sooo sweet...
Hey guys,
My friend emailed me this one day and it really touched me, its sooo sad and i hope it touches all of your hearts too. God bless you always. :)
The story of the cab driver
>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 rearview 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 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.
>>
>>
>>
>>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.
>>
My friend emailed me this one day and it really touched me, its sooo sad and i hope it touches all of your hearts too. God bless you always. :)
The story of the cab driver
>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 rearview 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 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.
>>
>>
>>
>>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.
>>
Comments
Always,
Angel from Heaven
>>
>>life.
"
closing of a life?
">
>>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? "
Then she would have missed out on this joy? or is there more?
Anyway thankyou for sharing this I think! (I know it might not be the time to be critical but there is some things that might make me think this is not a story written by a christian as it seems she was not grieved that she you'sed to dance in her youth but some christians dont think that dancings wrong I think)
Overall I think I think it is a sweet story too.
i like it!
thnx
GBU
sandra
Forever,
Coptic Servent
luv
mary