I always thought I knew everything about my mom. At 65, she was the rock of our family, but everything changed the night I unknowingly stepped into the back seat of a taxi she was driving.
It was one of those surreal moments that makes you question everything you held to be true.
Seeing her behind the wheel was a jolt. Wearing a driver’s cap like she’d been driving for years, I found myself in a whirlwind of disbelief and questions. I needed answers.
Life was going fairly well. At 35, I had a stable job, good friends, and a cozy apartment in the city. My mom, Ellen, lived nearby, and we spoke often. Everything seemed predictable until that fateful night.
It was a typical Tuesday. My coworker Jake and I had just finished dinner at a local diner. We were tired, joking around, and waiting outside for the taxi Jake had arranged.
“Man, I can’t wait to crash on my couch,” Jake said, rubbing his neck.
“Tell me about it,” I replied.
My car had been giving me trouble, so I was grateful for the ride Jake ordered. The cold air was biting at my face, and I was more focused on warming my hands than on the taxi that had pulled up.
We slid into the taxi, still chuckling about our boss’s awkward motivational speech earlier that day. The car had a soft lavender scent, and I noticed a familiar knitted cushion on the driver’s seat.
Oddly, it felt familiar, but fatigue made me brush it aside.
Then, tired, I leaned back and glanced at the rearview mirror. My eyes locked with the driver’s, and a chill ran down my spine as I recognized them.
Those eyes staring back were not a stranger’s. They were my mom’s.
“Mom?” I stammered, louder than I intended.
Jake turned quickly. “Wait… that’s your mom?”
I nodded, my mind flooded with questions.
My mom, driving a taxi? When did this happen?
Her eyes glanced between the road and the mirror, breaking into a nervous chuckle, “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”
“Cat’s out of the bag? Mom, why on earth are you driving a taxi?”
Jake, catching on, offered, “Hey man, need some privacy? I can catch another ride.”
I shook my head, gesturing it was fine.
“Mom,” I continued softly, “what’s happening?”
She sighed, holding the wheel tight. “It’s not what you think, Samuel. I never planned for you to find out this way.”
“And what exactly is going on? How long has this been a thing, and why?”
Jake shifted uneasily before deciding to leave, “I’ll just get out here. Catch you later, Sam.”
Once Jake was gone, I moved to the front seat, facing my mom in disbelief.
“Mom, really? You’ve never owned a car, and now you’re driving a taxi?”
She looked at me, determination in her eyes. “Samuel, I’ll explain. But please, don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry, just confused. You’ve never driven before, Mom. Why now? Why this?”
Resuming the drive, she kept her focus on the road, “I’ve been learning for several months.”
“Months? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to worry,” she admitted.
I laughed, humorless. “Mission not accomplished. I’m worried, Mom. Constantly.”
She gave me a telling look, “It’s about Lily.”
Lily was my ten-year-old niece, my sister Anna’s bright, inquisitive child, asked a thousand questions about the world. However, she’d been battling a serious illness for a year.
“Mom, what’s going on with Lily?”
“A few months ago, she told me she wishes to see the world while she can.” Her voice wavered, “She wants to see cities, oceans, mountains. But Anna is overwhelmed with medical bills, and you’re busy with your career. I couldn’t add to that burden.”
“So you started driving a taxi?” I asked, incredulous. “Mom, this isn’t safe!”
She nodded, resolute. “What other choice did I have? Lily doesn’t have time. I had to make her dream a reality.”
I rubbed my face in frustration, “Mom, you’re 65. Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve figured out something together.”
She shook her head, “I didn’t want you to sacrifice your savings or shoulder more worries. This was something I needed to do.”
I exhaled deeply.
“What’s the plan? To save up and take Lily on a road trip?”
Mom nodded. “A road trip. With me, Anna, and Lily to see the ocean, the Grand Canyon… anywhere she desires.”
I was astounded by her resolve. “And you were going to do all this alone?”
“Yes, I was going to try,” she said softly, “for Lily.”
The next morning, I called my sister. “Anna, we need to talk,” I said. I explained Mom’s plan, the taxi driving, and her motivation.
Anna’s voice trembled over the phone, “Mom did this for Lily?”
“Yes,” I replied, battling a lump in my throat. “But she’s not doing it alone anymore.”
In no time, we had a plan. We rented a small RV. Mom could drive, but I’d be there to help. Anna adjusted her work schedule, and we surprised Lily.
“A trip? A real one?” Lily asked, eyes wide with wonder.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Mom said. “We’re going to see the ocean, the mountains, everything you’ve wanted.”
“I get to see the ocean? Oh, wow!” Lily exclaimed, smiling.
“Yes,” I said, sharing her excitement. “We’re going to see it all.”
The trip was a beautiful escape. Lily’s face lit up as she viewed the Grand Canyon’s breathtaking expanse and her laughter resonated around us.
We felt the sands of a Californian beach under our feet, watched her chase seagulls, and marveled together at the infinite blue of the ocean.
One celestial night in the mountains, under a canopy of stars, Lily whispered, “Grandma, this is my favorite night.”
Mom smiled warmly, “Mine too, my love.”
On our last night, we sat by a campfire, roasting marshmallows. A serenity enveloped us.
Lily snuggled into Mom, whispered, “Thank you, Grandma. This is the best Christmas ever.”
Mom, eyes misty with emotion, replied, “Anything for you, my darling.”
Once home, the trip’s magic lingered, but Lily’s symptoms worsened. We understood what lay ahead.
Yet, those precious memories endured, lifting her even when things turned dark.
Saying goodbye to her became the hardest moment of our lives. But amidst the sadness, I recognized my mom as a genuine hero.
Heroes don’t always sport capes. Sometimes, they have an immense heart and an unwavering spirit – and perhaps a taxi driver’s license to transport dreams.
