Nancy loved her son Henry more than anything in the world. She couldn’t imagine life without him. It had been 23 years since a tragic accident had taken Henry’s life, but Nancy kept a special tradition alive every year to remember him. On the anniversary of his death, she always baked his favorite pie and took it to his grave.
For 23 years, Nancy, now 61, had never missed a single year. She baked the same pie every time—a simple but delicious apple and cinnamon pie, Henry’s favorite since he was little.
The smell of apples and cinnamon always reminded her of the old days, when Henry would rush into the kitchen with excitement whenever he saw her baking his favorite treat.
It had become their special tradition, one that Nancy kept close to her heart after Henry’s tragic death at 17. The pie was her way of keeping his memory alive. It gave her a small sense of closeness to him, as if she were still doing something special for her boy.
Even though many years had passed, the pain of losing Henry never really went away. But this tradition helped soften the sadness, giving her a little comfort each year.
On this day, like every other year, Nancy carefully carried the pie to Henry’s grave. The dish always felt heavy when she walked toward his resting place. His grave was neat and covered with flowers, a symbol of the love he had left behind.
She knelt by the gravestone, placed the pie gently on top, and spoke quietly. “Henry, I hope you’re at peace. I miss you every day. I baked your favorite pie again. Do you remember how we used to bake it together?” she said, smiling but with tears in her eyes. “I wish we could do that again.”
After a few moments, Nancy kissed her fingers and touched the gravestone softly before saying goodbye and walking away, knowing she would be back next year.
The next day, Nancy went back to Henry’s grave to clean up the leftover pie. Usually, the pie would either be untouched or spoiled by the weather. It was always a bittersweet reminder of Henry’s absence.
But when she got to the grave, something felt different. To her surprise, the plate was empty. Nancy’s heart skipped a beat, and she stood frozen in disbelief.
Then she noticed something else—a small piece of paper on the plate, folded in half.
Her hands shook as she picked it up and opened it. The handwriting was shaky, as if written by someone who struggled to write. The note simply said, “Thank you.”
Nancy’s heart raced with confusion and anger. “Who would take Henry’s pie?” she whispered to herself. She felt upset—this was a tradition just for her son. No one had the right to touch it.
Nancy felt a mix of emotions—outraged and confused. She couldn’t let someone disrespect her ritual. She decided to find out who had taken the pie.
That night, Nancy baked another pie, just like before, using Henry’s favorite apple and cinnamon recipe. The next morning, she returned to Henry’s grave, determined to catch whoever had taken the pie.
She hid behind a nearby tree and waited, watching the grave as time slowly passed.
Finally, after an hour, she saw a small figure approach. It was a young boy, no older than 9, dressed in ragged clothes and with dirt on his face. He walked slowly toward the pie.
Nancy watched carefully. The boy didn’t immediately take the pie. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small piece of paper, and began writing something with a pencil, his hand trembling.
It took him a while, but eventually, the boy wrote “Thank you” on the paper, just like the note she had found the day before.
Nancy’s anger melted away. This boy wasn’t stealing; he was just hungry. Her son’s favorite pie had brought him comfort.
When the boy went to pick up the pie, Nancy stepped out from her hiding place, startling him. He dropped the pie, and his face turned pale with fear.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” he cried. “I was just so hungry, and the pie was so good. Please don’t be mad.”
Nancy’s heart softened. She knelt beside him and said gently, “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not mad. Where are your parents?”
The boy stayed quiet and shook his head. “What’s your name?” Nancy asked.
“Jimmy,” he whispered, looking down.
Nancy smiled softly and said, “Well, Jimmy, it’s okay. You don’t have to steal. If you’re hungry, you can just ask.”
Jimmy looked up, his eyes filled with hope and doubt. “Really?” he asked.
“Yes, really,” Nancy replied, her heart warmed by the thought. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
She offered him her hand, and slowly, Jimmy took it.
Nancy led him home, and when they got there, she baked a fresh pie for him. As the warm smell filled the kitchen, Jimmy watched in amazement, unable to believe what was happening.
When the pie was ready, Nancy placed it in front of him. “This one’s all for you,” she said.
Jimmy hesitated for a moment before grabbing a slice. His face lit up with happiness as he tasted it. “This is the best pie I’ve ever had,” he said.
Nancy watched him eat, her heart filled with emotion. As he enjoyed the pie, she thought of Henry, remembering how he used to eagerly wait for his first bite.
In a way, she was sharing her love for Henry with this boy, who needed comfort just as much.
As Jimmy finished the last bite, Nancy felt a deep sense of peace. Perhaps, she thought, this was how things were meant to be. Helping Jimmy had brought her a new purpose, a way to honor Henry’s memory by showing kindness to someone in need.
For the first time in years, Nancy felt her grief had led her to something beautiful—something that gave her life new meaning.
She smiled as Jimmy finished the last slice of pie, her heart full of warmth.
As Jimmy wiped his mouth and smiled, Nancy watched him with a quiet sense of peace. The sadness that had clung to her for so long seemed to lift, replaced by a warm feeling she hadn’t known in years. She had given him something small but meaningful, and in return, it had filled the empty space in her heart.
Jimmy looked up at her, his eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you, Miss Nancy. I… I haven’t eaten like that in a long time.”
Nancy’s heart ached for him. She had been blessed to have the chance to care for Henry, and now, in a way, she was given the chance to care for Jimmy too. She took a deep breath and spoke softly, “You don’t have to thank me, Jimmy. You’re welcome here anytime. If you’re ever hungry, or if you need a place to stay, you come back, okay?”
Jimmy’s eyes filled with tears as he nodded, his small voice cracking with emotion. “I will. I promise.”
As the evening sun began to set, Nancy sat with him for a while, her heart full. For the first time since Henry passed, she felt a sense of hope and connection. Maybe this was the reason why she had kept the tradition alive for so many years—so she could share this love and warmth with someone who needed it most.
Jimmy stood up, his small frame looking a bit taller and stronger now. “I should go, but thank you. I’ll come back soon.”
Nancy watched as he walked down the path, a small smile on his face. Her kitchen, once filled with loneliness and grief, was now quiet but comforting. She glanced at the pie tin, empty except for a few crumbs, and it hit her: In that moment, the pie had been more than just a tradition. It had been an act of kindness that bridged the gap between loss and love.
As she closed the door, Nancy whispered to herself, “Maybe this is what Henry would have wanted. Maybe he sent Jimmy to me, so I could share his favorite pie, and in doing so, share the love that never faded.”
And with that thought, Nancy felt at peace, knowing that her son’s memory would live on—not just in the pie, but in the kindness she passed on to those who needed it most.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft golden light across the quiet home, as Nancy smiled softly and sat down, ready for whatever tomorrow would bring.
My Friend Asked Me to Find out What Her Date Thinks of Her While I Was in a Clown Costume, but I Had No Idea How It Would End — Story of the Day
Being a radio host who gives dating advice doesn’t make navigating love any easier—especially when I crashed my best friend’s first date dressed as a clown. What happened that night was unexpected, and now I’m caught in a situation I never saw coming. Sometimes, life takes you where you least expect.
Once again, I found myself in Lucy’s cozy kitchen, she animatedly talked about yet another man who had caught her attention. Lucy’s love life was always buzzing with activity, unlike mine.
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Finding a partner wasn’t easy for me—I didn’t want to date just to avoid being alone.
I believed it was better to wait than to settle, even if that meant coming home to my cat instead of a husband.
“He’s perfect!” Lucy said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “We’ve been texting nonstop. He’s so sweet. I think he might be different.”
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“So, you haven’t actually met him yet?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not yet, but we’re meeting Friday. I’m so excited. I can feel this is going to be great!” she said.
I smirked without meaning to.
“What’s that look for?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
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“Nothing. It’s just… you don’t even know him yet. People can seem amazing online but be completely different in real life,” I said.
“You’re so distrustful. That’s why you don’t have a man,” Lucy replied, crossing her arms.
“I don’t have a man because men are idiots,” I said with a shrug.
“Not Mike. He’s wonderful. I think he might even be the one,” she said.
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“Listen to your heart,” I replied. That was my go-to advice, though Lucy said it about every guy she met.
After that evening, I forgot about Mike and Lucy’s upcoming date—until Friday arrived, and I received a message from her.
There I was, dressed as a clown, surrounded by kids—my niece’s friends—because my brother had forgotten to hire an entertainer for her birthday party.
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The striped clown suit was too tight, and the red wig itched like crazy. I could feel sweat dripping down my back as kids tugged at my oversized shoes and poked my sides.
“Well, you can do it,” my brother had said, as if asking me to juggle balloons and make kids laugh was no big deal.
“I’m a radio host, not an entertainer!” I snapped.
“It’s basically the same thing,” he replied with a grin.
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Even though I wanted to storm out, we both knew I wouldn’t. I always stepped in for family, no matter how ridiculous the request.
As I tried to keep the kids from snatching my wig, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I quickly checked it, careful to keep my clown nose in place.
@Lucy
When will you be free???
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@Me
About half an hour
@Lucy
I need your help!!!!
@Me
What happened??
I frowned. Lucy was on her date with Mike. Had something gone wrong?
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@Lucy
I don’t know if Mike likes me! I need you to find out!
@Me
How am I supposed to do that?
@Lucy
You do this all the time on your radio show!
@Me
I’m in a clown costume!!!
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@Lucy
Pleaseeeeeee
@Me
Fine, but you owe me.
@Lucy
Thank you thank you thank you!!!!!!!
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I sighed, stuffing my phone back into my pocket. After peeling off the kids and saying goodbye, I messaged Lucy for the location and called a cab.
When I walked into the dimly lit bar, Lucy spotted me instantly and waved enthusiastically.
I hesitated, adjusting my ridiculous clown wig as a group of strangers gave me confused looks. Taking a deep breath, I made my way to their table.
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Lucy beamed as I sat down. “Mike, this is Trish, my best friend,” she said.
“Nice to meet you,” Mike said. His eyes briefly flicked to my bright red nose.
“Hi,” I replied, trying to ignore how ridiculous I looked.
Lucy launched into small talk, but the conversation quickly shifted. Mike mentioned a classic movie, and I couldn’t help but jump in.
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“You’re into old films?” I asked, intrigued.
“Big time,” Mike said, his face lighting up.
We exchanged favorite titles, diving into directors and scenes. Lucy fidgeted, looking uninterested. I tried to change topics, but Mike kept steering it back.
When Lucy excused herself, I leaned in. “So, what do you think of Lucy?” I asked.
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“Um… I mean, she’s cute,” Mike said, glancing away like he wasn’t sure how to answer.
“Nice? Lucy is more than cute. She’s amazing,” I said, my voice firm. “She’s funny, smart, and a great cook. I go to her place for dinner sometimes because I can’t stand cooking.”
“I love cooking,” Mike said, smiling a little.
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“See? You two already have something in common,” I said, trying to be encouraging. But then he looked right at me.
His eyes seemed to study mine, and for a moment, I felt something strange. It was like a spark, something unexpected. My cheeks got warm, and I quickly smiled back.
“But I don’t want to argue over who cooks dinner,” Mike said, breaking the moment. “There should only be one chef in the kitchen.”
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I laughed. “So, you’re the chef?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Always,” he said with a grin, and we both laughed.
Just then, Lucy returned to the table. “What’s so funny?” she asked, looking between us. “Were you talking about me?”
“Sort of,” I said.
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Mike’s phone buzzed, and he excused himself to take the call. The moment he left, Lucy turned to me eagerly. “So? What does he think of me?”
“He thinks you’re cute,” I said carefully. “What do you think of him?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her brow furrowing. “Watching you two, I feel like he’s more your type.”
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“Pfft. What? No. What? No,” I stammered.
“Not very convincing,” she said with a smirk.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s your date,” I said firmly. “There’s a rule—never go after your friend’s guy.”
“It’s just a first date,” Lucy said with a shrug. Then she smiled. “But I’m glad you reacted like that—I think I really like him.”
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I smiled back, but deep down, something felt off. A tiny pang of sadness hit me, and I wasn’t sure why.
We stayed a bit longer, and I tried to shift the focus so Mike and Lucy could talk.
But every time I said something to steer the conversation, Mike directed his answers back to me. It was hard not to notice, and Lucy didn’t seem thrilled.
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When we decided to leave, Lucy headed to the restroom again, leaving me alone with Mike. The night air was cool, and I shivered a little.
“So, do you work as an entertainer?” Mike asked, his tone light.
“Why do you ask?” I replied, narrowing my eyes playfully. Then I saw him glance at my outfit, and it hit me. “Oh, no! I host a radio show. Dating advice, mostly. My niece had a birthday party, and my brother forgot to hire an entertainer.” I gestured to my clown costume with a sheepish smile.
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“Well, that’s bold of you,” Mike said, grinning.
“It was fine until the kids tried to tear my costume apart. They’re little savages,” I joked.
Mike laughed. “Kids can be wild. They’ve got endless energy.”
“Yeah, but they mean well,” I said.
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He paused. “Listen, Trish…” he began, his voice softer, but before he could finish, Lucy appeared.
“Want to walk me home?” she asked him brightly. “I live close by.”
“Of course,” Mike said, stepping toward her.
He turned back to me, and we both hesitated. He went for a hug while I offered a handshake, and we ended up with an awkward high five.
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It made us laugh, but as they walked away, I felt something strange, a little twist in my chest.
The next few days passed quietly. Lucy didn’t say much about Mike, which was unusual for her.
She only mentioned that he hadn’t wanted to come up to her apartment after their date.
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She shrugged it off, but I could tell she wasn’t thrilled. I didn’t press her for details.
One morning, as I was sipping my coffee, my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.
@Unknown
Hey 🙂 It’s Mike. I know this is weird, but would you like to meet up sometime?
I stared at the screen, my stomach flipping.
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@Me
How did you get my number?
@Unknown
Secret 😉 So, what do you think?
I frowned, trying to steady my thoughts.
@Me
Sorry, I don’t go on dates with men my friends like.
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@Unknown
Lucy and I only had one date. But I haven’t felt a connection like this in years—with anyone. Not until I met you.
My chest tightened. I stared at the words longer than I should have.
@Me
Sorry, but no.
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I set my phone down. Saying no felt like the right thing, but his words lingered, leaving a knot I couldn’t untangle.
I tried to shake it off and focus on work. During my radio show, I put on my usual cheerful voice, pretending my own heart wasn’t a mess.
“Hi, this is Trish. How can I help with your love troubles?” I said, wishing someone could help with mine.
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“Hi,” a man’s voice said, calm and familiar. “I don’t date much. It’s hard for me to find a connection with someone. But recently, I went on a date with one woman. Her friend showed up in a clown costume. And, well, with the friend, I felt something I haven’t felt in years—maybe ever.”
I froze. My heart skipped a beat. It was Mike.
“But she won’t go out with me. She says it’s wrong. I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I really like her.”
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My mouth went dry. “Maybe you should listen to her and let it go,” I managed, my voice unsteady.
“She’s unforgettable. The kind of person who stays with you for a lifetime,” he said softly.
I smiled, caught off guard. “You probably just think that because she was wearing a clown costume,” I said, my tone lighter.
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“I’d remember her no matter what she wore,” he replied without hesitation. “So, will this girl go out with me?”
I hesitated, feeling torn. “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” I said quietly.
Before I could say more, my producer buzzed in. “Take the next call—it’s important,” she said.
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I switched lines. “Go out with him! You have my blessing!” Lucy yelled through the line. I blinked, stunned. “Finally, a guy you like!”
“But you like him,” I stammered, realizing we were still live.
“Not really. He likes you,” Lucy said.
“It’s not right,” I protested weakly.
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“Forget right or wrong. Listen to your heart. You always say that to others. Take your own advice for once,” Lucy urged.
“So, what do you say?” Mike’s voice came back, gentle but insistent. “Her friend gave her blessing.”
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I sighed, my walls crumbling. “Yes,” I whispered.
The sound engineer played an applause track, and I couldn’t help but laugh. My face burned as I blushed, feeling completely exposed—but strangely happy.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Attending my daughter’s wedding was supposed to be a joyful moment, but facing my ex-husband and his new wife turned everything upside down. Old wounds resurfaced, and new betrayals came to light. I thought I’d left the past behind, but this trip forced me to confront truths I wasn’t ready to face.
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