A Letter

Several years ago I read a feature in The Reader’s Digest that I’ve tried to find in archives but have not been able to locate. The following captures the spirit of the story.

A passenger settled into the back seat of a New York City taxi and asked the driver to take him to the airport. In just a few minutes, traffic snarled and came to a dead stop. The cab driver talked on his radio to the dispatcher and was told there was a major accident and it would likely be an hour or more before traffic would move. He turned to the passenger and explained the situation. The man in the back barely turned from staring out the window.

After a few minutes, the cabbie tried to strike up a conversation with his passenger to pass the time but the man seemed to be deep in thought about something. A few moments later he leaned forward and said to the taxi driver, "I’m sorry, but my mind is miles away. I got a call from my wife that my best friend died unexpectedly. That’s why I’m on my way to his home to comfort his family."

The driver said, "Gosh, I’m sorry. I guess he was a really good friend for you to rush out of the city." The man reached into his coat pocket and handed the driver a letter, without saying a word. "I can’t read your mail," said the driver. The passenger made a motion to go ahead.

The driver began read the letter addressed to Ed. It talked about how long they had been friends and how their lives had gotten so busy they hadn’t stopped to enjoy each other’s company in a long time. "Remember how we used to sit in that leaky old boat and fish for hours without saying a word or catching a fish? Then go home and tell our wives what a great time we had," the letter said.

"I remember the first time you beat me at golf, and the one time I won at bowling. You were there when my son was born. And, I’ll never forget the time you drove all night to be at my side in the hospital after I had that car crash," the letter continued. It went on about all the good and bad times they had gone through and how much those times meant.

"Ed," the letter said, "we are going to get together again soon. We’ll drive out and spend a few days with you and all the family, or you can come here if you want. I’ll give you a call and we’ll set the date and where we’ll meet."

It was signed, "Look forward to seeing you soon.  Your friend, Tom."

The taxi driver handed the letter back to the man and said, "Sounds like you and Tom were very close. It’s hard to find a true friend like that. I’m really sorry about your friend."

The passenger said, "You don’t understand. My name is Tom. I wrote that letter a couple of weeks ago late one night in a hotel room after a hard day on my job. I travel for a living. I stuck it into my briefcase with the intention of mailing it the next morning."

"I never did."

©2013