It had been a particularly grueling day, filled with the strife of living.
The last place I wanted to be was in an apron, serving others.
But, not bringing a paycheck home wasn’t going to make things better.
So, wearing shoes and a plastered on smile that were equally worn out,
I started to work my way around the diner’s tables.
It was all I could do to be pleasant to the woman with the crying baby.
I tried desperately to be cheerful to the cop who’d worked all night.
The giggling teenagers were happier than my heart could handle.
Table, after table I struggled to stand tall, despite the weight on my shoulders.
By the time I reached the man in the rumpled clothing I just wanted to cry.
Still, I smiled, filled his coffee cup and took his order – a single slice of pie.
Setting the plate before him, I watched as he cut away the tip of the pastry.
Later, when I refilled his coffee cup I noticed the tip of the pie remained.
With all of the worry on my head, a problem customer was the last thing I needed.
“Mister, was there something wrong with that pie, that you didn’t eat that piece?”
He motioned me closer and glanced side-to-side before sharing his secret.
In an accent I didn’t recognize, he whispered … “Don’t you know? When a pie is baked,
All of the sweetness falls to the center. So, I slice the corner away,
Then I make a wish for someone who needs it most. Today, I think that person is you.”
Gone were tears that had earlier threatened to fall, from frustration and fatigue,
They had been replaced by ones of gratitude, warmth and relief.
This stranger from a strange land had given me a gift – the simple gift of being seen, Wrapped in the reminder of looking beyond yourself.
Ever since that day, I’ve remembered the sweetness at the center of the pie,
And to always look around and make a wish for someone who needs it most.