因为感动，花了点时间把这篇网上文章译成中文，同时也借此向那些善良的司机们致敬。

       开车到了地点按了一下喇叭，等了一会没见到人就再按一次，已是晚班收工前最后一趟载客，本想就此掉头而去，但还是停好车上前去敲门 ....... 屋里头有把苍老的声音回应：等一下 ...... 我听到有东西在地上拖动的声音。

       又等了好一阵子，门终于开了，一个身穿印花衫戴着一顶小花帽90多岁的瘦小女人出现在我的面前，帽上还扣着一块薄纱，就像是个1940年代电影里的人物。

       她身边有个小尼龙行李箱，身后的住所家私都蒙上布块，仿佛已经多年没人在此居住。

       目光所及，墙上没有钟，橱柜里也没有任何小摆设或餐具，角落头却有个塞满了老照片以及玻璃器皿的柜子。

       老妇人说：“您可以帮我把箱子拿到车上去吗？” 。我放好了箱子再回去扶持老人慢慢走向车子。

       老人一边挽着我的手臂，一边不断地说：你真是个好孩子 .......... 我说：我只想如同对待自己的母亲一般对待我的乘客。

       她给了我目的地的地址然后说：是否可以穿过市区？我很快的回答说：但那不是最短的路程！

       哦，她说：我不赶时间，我是在前往“终老院”（hospice）。

       我看看望后镜，老人眼里仿佛有点泪光，她轻声继续说：我已经没有任何亲人，医生说，我的时日不多了 ......... 我悄悄关上咪表然后问：那我们要怎么走？

       下来的两个小时，我们走过了市区许多角落，她让我看了她曾经在哪当过电梯服务员的大楼 …....... 经过她当年新婚时曾经住过的邻里 ......... 在一间家具批发厂前停下，她告诉我：这里曾经是一间跳舞厅，少女时代的她常来这里跳舞 ............

       有时，她也会让我在一些建筑角落停下然后凝望着那些幽暗处，久久不发一言 ...........

       天渐渐亮了，她突然说：走吧，我疲倦了。

       一路沉默，最终我们到达目的地，这是一栋窄小的建筑，像是一所疗养院，有条车道通往门廊。

       停车后两个服务员来到跟前，他们早已预期老人的到来，仔细认真关注她的一举一动，轮椅也早已准备好，我把行李箱搬到门前。

       老人一边打开钱包一边问：我要付你多少钱？

       我说不用。

       老人说：但这是你的工作酬劳生活所需！

       我回答说还有其他乘客会付费的。

       毫不思索的我弯腰给她一个拥抱，她也紧紧拥抱了我。并说：你给了我瞬间无比的欢乐，谢谢你！

       我紧紧握了她的手然后在黯淡晨光中转身离开，背后的关门声仿佛预示了一个生命的即将离去。

       那一班次我不再载客，而是漫无目的开着车，一整天都沉默寡言，又想：如果老人碰到一个脾气不好的司机或者我不愿意载她到处走，又或者我只按了一次喇叭就离开，那将会是怎么的一种情况？

       这一刻，我感觉做了件人生中最有意义的事。

       我们常觉得自己生命里有许多值得留恋的美好时光，但这种“自我感觉良好”在其他人眼里或许只是微不足道？

       最终，人们或许不能确切记得你做过什么或说过什么，但他们往往会记得你的言行给予他们的感受和感动。

泰勒，特里萨

Tyler Theresa

13.8.2023

欲了解更多有关作者资料请点击链接：phoonyewtien.webador.com

网上原文：

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up 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 90'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 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 to be 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.

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.

At the bottom of this great story was a request to forward this - I deleted that request because if you have read to this point, you won't have to be asked to pass it along you just will...

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

By: Tyler Theresa