The Cab Ride

Hey my dear readers! What I'm about to share with you guys is an inspiring or is it a sad story? Whatever it is...this story is very meaningful and so I decided to share it with you guys! It's a real-life story written by Kent Nerburn, a great author in America. Enjoy reading as always!



The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget
by Kent Nerburn

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that 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 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."
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.

Déjà vu

Hey readers, this is an experience of mine that I would like to share it with you people in the form of a modern poetry, I supposed. Judging by the title, I'm sure you will all know what's the story behind it. Anyway, enjoy!



Sometimes I wonder,
While resting my head on my shoulder,
Why do I often feel something very familiar,
Which gives off a sense of peculiar.

To my amazement,
In some and any random moment,
I sometimes feel things happened before,
Which always gives me the the question of wherefore.

These happenings of timestream,
Seems to have occured to me in my dream,
Which I couldn't remember,
As they are kept deep down in the memory chamber.

But these feelings are strong,
And I know that it's not wrong,
For they are wonderful,
And also very colourful.

For now, I cannot solve this mystery,
As they are all history,
Coming from the shadows of the past,
Which doesn't seemed to last.

Appreciate all your time,
As they are worth more than a million dime,
And to live your life as a jourey,
That cannot be bought by money.




By,
Tan Wee Boon 1 August 2010
Copyrighted.

A Boring But Happy Day

Hey readers, this is another modern poetry that I wrote today! Hope you like it!


From the sunlight out the window,
I am seating at my desk casted by a shadow,
Using my computer,
Busy checking my twitter.

This is in the midday,
Of a sunny Saturday,
I look at the clock and it tells me three,
Besides twittering I have nothing else to do and am very free.

So I decided to sit down here and write a poetry,
To show the readers my artistry,
And as to kill time slow and gently
Without doing things violently.

While brainstorming as I walk around the area of my old neighbourhood,
I seem to remember the memory of my childhood,
For this surroundings are still planted with the same old sugar cane,
Which now seems to me like a memory lane.

Ten years haven't dimmed the thrill of the fun,
Of good moments shared with my friends under the happy sun,
The good old times are always the best,
For it is different from the rest.

Well the glowing afternoon seems very long,
But it didn't bother me because I'm having fun walking and listening to my favourite song,
And in this moment of calm and peace,
Is where I get the ideas for my latest masterpiece.




By,
Tan Wee Boon 31 July 2010
Copyrighted.

The 21st Century Life

This is an original poetry that I came up with during English class in tuition. It's part of the assignment. Guess what? I got an A+, so I decided to share this with you guys, enjoy!


My parents used to tell straight into my ears,
That life was hard and poor back then in fifty years,
Working day and night but nothing seemed to improve,
Still, I'm sceptical about the story as there were no proof.

Right now, I'm always busy,
Because this is the 21st century life, which is very lousy,
I barely have the chance to rest in my cozy cushion,
Because for me, my daily schedule is filled with tuition.

Back then, my parents barely see a phone,
But now, even a four-year old kid has a fancy mobile phone,
Life changes, like the value of gold
Everything is now going old.

Modern life is full of obstacles,
But life must go on, said my father wearing his spectacles,
The society is turning bad,
This makes me very sad.

At least my parents got to work at young age,
Unlike me, who is stuck in the house like a bird in a cage,
Because it is not safe to go out now,
So I might as well stay in the house with my dog, named Cow.

Things are getting more and more expensive,
Life is just explosive,
Oh my poor pocket,
It's unbelievable how much I spend a day, my eyes nearly pop out of its socket.



By,
Tan Wee Boon.
Copyrighted.