Imagine Taking Pie to a Stranger.

It happened innocently enough.

I got the PTA email asking for baking donations for a teacher appreciation week event. Since I run a business, I don’t have a lot of time to volunteer in the school. But since I absolutely love to bake, it’s a natural fit for me to send baked goods to contribute to every request whether it’s for a sale or event.

I do my fair share. I enjoy it immensely even if it means adding a little stress to my life, it’s worth it. Sometimes, I regret the my seemingly uncontrollable reflex to hit REPLY and say “yes” to the email. But I don’t seem to have the ability to hold back.

But this one time? I forgot about my pie commitment until I got the reminder from my (extensive) calendaring system. It was 9pm and I didn’t even have all the ingredients. At the grocery store — with no bra and a bulky coat over my loose t-shirt and yoga pants — I gathered what I needed. Cherries. More butter. King Arthur Flour. (Seriously, it does make a difference to use good flour. Trust me.)

I got home and made the crust. Let it chill in the freezer to speed up the process while I started pitting the cherries.

I napped on the sofa while the pie baked. So tired. So, so tired. But by 1:30 am, the pie was ready. I left it to cool and went to bed.

First thing in the morning, I packed up this gorgeous pie and got in my car with the address in my hand. It was a neighborhood nearby, but one I had not spent any time exploring before. Driving slowly and looking for the address, I was a little baffled that the numbers on the street didn’t match my notes exactly. Ugh, I am usually so detailed but I’d been booking on a huge project and could have written it wrong. So, I pulled into the driveway of the almost address and gathered the pie and walked to the door.

Ding dong!

A woman answered the door. She looked frazzled. She saw the pie, looked into my eyes and her face lit up into a huge smile. Huge.

“Thank you,” she said in tenuous English. “So nice. So nice! I don’t know a person. Thank you! I feel so happy.”

And I saw past her in the doorway that there were stacks and stacks of boxes. After a little difficult conversation, I figured out that her family had moved into the neighborhood that very week. Her children would be going to our school. And she was very, extremely overwhelmed. And evidently, she was very happy for the housewarming pie.

Which was all really lovely except that someone else was expecting my pie.

What would you have done? I said “Welcome to Clarksville” and went home to make another pie. And (clearly) to look up the correct address — which turned out to be on the next street over.