History of New York Taxi Driver

One of the New York taxi drivers wrote on his Facebook page:

I came to the address and picked up. After a few minutes, I swallowed again. Since it was supposed to be my last flight, I thought about leaving, but instead I parked my car, approached the door and knocked... “A minute,” the fragile, elderly woman’s voice replied. I heard something dragging on the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A 90-year-old girl was standing in front of me. She was wearing a sitze dress and a hat with a whaling, as if it were from the 1940s movies. There was a small suitcase next to her. The apartment looked like no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with blankets. There were no clocks on the walls, no clothes on the shelves. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photographs and glass dishes.
“Would you help me take my suitcase into the car?” She said. I took my suitcase into the car and then went back to help the woman. She took my hand and we slowly moved towards the car.
She continued to thank me for my kindness. “It’s nothing,” I told her, “I’m just trying to treat my passengers the way I want them to treat my mother.”
“You’re such a good boy,” she said. When we got into the car, she gave me the address and then asked, “Could you go through the city center?“”
“It’s not the shortest way,” I replied quickly.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said, “I am not in a hurry. I’m going to the hospice...”
I looked in the back mirror. Her eyes were shining. “My family has long been gone,” she continued in a quiet voice, “the doctor says I don’t have much time left.”
I quietly stretched out my hand and turned off the counter.
“Which route would you like to go?” I asked.
For the next two hours, we walked through the city. She showed me the building where she used to work as an elevator.
We walked through the area where she and her husband lived when they were newlyweds. She showed me a furniture warehouse that was once a dance hall where she was engaged when she was a little girl.
Sometimes she asked me to slow down in front of a particular building or street and sat down in the dark without saying anything.
Later she suddenly said, “I’m tired, maybe we’ll go now.”
We walked in silence to the address she gave me. It was a low building, something like a small sanatorium, with an entrance path along a large portico.
Two doctors approached the car as soon as we arrived. They were careful and helped her out. They must have been waiting for her. I opened the trunk and put a small suitcase in the door. She was already sitting in a wheelchair.
“How much do I owe you?” She asked me to bring a bag.
“Not a few,” I said.
“You have to make a living,” she replied.
“There are other passengers,” I replied.
Almost without thinking, I leaned and hugged her, she held me tight.
“You gave the old lady a little happiness,” she said, “Thank you.”
I squeezed her hand and then left... Behind my back the door closed, it was the sound of closing another book of life...
I did not take any more passengers on the way back. I went where my eyes looked, immersed in my thoughts. For the rest of the day, I could barely talk. What if this woman was caught by an angry driver, or one who was impatient to finish her shift? What if I refused to fulfill her request, or after a couple of times, I then left?
In the end, I would like to say that I have never done anything more important in my life. We are taught to think that our lives revolve around great moments, but the great moments often catch us astonished, beautifully wrapped in what others may consider small things.