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.
二十年前，我以开出租车谋生。有一次半夜我为了接一名乘客来去到了一栋建筑处，那里黑漆漆的，只有底层的窗户那有一盏灯是亮着的。在这样的情况下，大多计程车司机可能只会按一两下喇叭，等上一分钟，然后便扬长而去。但是我曾经见过非常多贫困的人们，他们非常依赖计程车，把计程车当作是他们唯一的交通工具。除非是察觉到有危险的情况下，不然我经常会走到门边。我总会这样去想，或许这位乘客正需要我的帮助呢。所以我走到了门边然后敲了敲门。
"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.
一分钟后，我听到了虚弱的应答声，像是老人的声音。我能够听到有东西在拖着地走。隔了很长一段时间后，门开了，站在我面前的是一位身材矮小，看上去有八十来岁的老妇人。她穿着一条印花连衣裙，带了一个镶有面纱的圆形女帽，看上去就好像从40年代的电影里面走出来的人一样。手上还提着一个小型的尼龙箱。
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.
这栋公寓看上去已经多年没人住过了。所有的家具都用被单盖起来的。墙上没有刮痕，柜台上没有任何装饰和厨具。角落里放着一个装有照片和玻璃器皿的纸箱。

"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?"
“你可以帮我把箱子拿到车上去吗？”她说。我把箱子拿到我的车上后，又返回来帮她。她搀扶着我的手臂，我们慢慢的向车子走去。她一直不停地对我的善意表示感谢，我对她说：“没事，我只是试着用希望我母亲也可以能到的对待方式来对待我的乘客。”“噢，你真是个好孩子，”她说。当我们到了出租车上后，她递给我一个地址，然后问道：“请问你可以载我穿过这个城镇吗？”
"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.
“这不是最近的路线，”我急忙回答道。“噢，我不介意，”她说，“我不急，我是准备去临终安养院。“我从后视镜里看到，她的眼睛闪闪发光。”我没有家人可以留恋，“她继续说道，“医生说我的时间不长了”。我很快便关掉了计价器。然后问她：“你想走哪条路线呢？”
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.
接下来的两个小时，我们开着车，在这个城市穿梭。她给我看她曾经作为一个开电梯的人员工作过的地方。我们穿过她和她丈夫新婚时曾经居住过的那一带。在一家家具仓库门前时她让我减速停下，那里曾是一个舞厅，年轻时她还在那跳过舞。
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.
有时候，经过某一栋建筑或者谋一个角落的时候，她会让我减速，然后坐在车上凝望着那一片漆黑，却什么也不说。当第一缕太阳光从地平面上升起的时候，她突然说：“我累了，我们走吧。”我们坐在车上，沉默不语，前往她给我的那个目的地。
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.
那是一栋矮小的建筑，就好像是一个小型的康复医院，门廊下有一条私人通道。我们的车一停，两名医院的护理人员就来到我们的车边。他们关怀备至，专心致志看着这位老妇人的一举一动。她们肯定一直都在等她。我打开后备箱，把她那个小箱子拿出来放到门边。这位妇人已经坐在轮椅上了。
"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.
“我应该给你多少钱呢？”她拿出她的钱包并问道。“不用给了”我说。她继续答道：“这是你的生计啊。”“还有其他的乘客呢”想都没想，我弯腰给了她一个拥抱。她紧紧的抓着我并且说道：“你给了我这个老妇人一小段愉悦的时光，谢谢。”我紧握着她的手，然后在清晨那昏暗的光线中离去了。在我的身后，我听到门关了，那是一个生命逝去的声音。
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.
在那一行程中，我没有再接其他的乘客。我漫无目的的开着车，陷入沉思。在那一天剩余的时间里，我几乎都没说话。如果那位妇人遇见的是一位脾气不好的司机，或者是一位没有耐心去走完那一程的司机，情况会是怎么样？如果我拒绝去接这次的行程，或者只是响一两声喇叭便把车开走，又会怎么样？快速的回顾一下，我并不觉得自己做了生命中什么重要的事情。我们习惯这样去想，我们的生命中是有那么些重大且难忘的瞬间。但是这样一些瞬间也不常让我们意识到——美好的事物往往就包裹在那些令他人看来微不足道的事情里面。