I always thought I knew everything about my mom. At 65, she was the rock of our family—predictable, steady, and always there when we needed her. But all of that changed one night when I unknowingly hopped into the back seat of a taxi she was driving.
It was a late, rainy evening, and I was exhausted after a long shift at work. I flagged down a taxi, barely looking up as I slid into the back seat. “Where to?” came a familiar voice from the front. My heart stopped. I looked up, and there she was—my mother, gripping the steering wheel, staring at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Mom?” I managed to choke out, my brain scrambling to make sense of what I was seeing.
She sighed, her hands tightening on the wheel. “I guess the secret’s out.”
For months—maybe years—she had been working as a nighttime taxi driver. She had kept it from us, afraid of how we’d react. “Your father’s pension isn’t enough,” she admitted. “And I didn’t want to burden you kids.”
I sat in stunned silence as she drove. I had always seen my mom as someone who had everything under control. But in that moment, I realized how much she had sacrificed—how much she had hidden to keep us from worrying.
That night changed everything. I saw her not just as my mother, but as a woman who had quietly shouldered more than I ever realized. And for the first time, I truly understood the depth of her love.
