Hello,
Dear ones,
And welcome to tonight's story.
The baker who remembered tomorrow.
Just taking a few moments as always to arrive here.
Allowing the mind and body to come into stillness.
Maybe allowing the breath to become longer.
On the inhale and exhale.
And when you are ready,
Dear ones.
We will begin.
The bakery opened at half past five.
Which was earlier than any sensible person needed breath.
And Simone liked it that way.
She liked the hour before the city woke up.
She liked the particular quality of darkness outside the window.
And the smell of the ovens filling the small room.
The way the lows came out exactly right,
Even on the days when she was tired and her measurements were slightly off.
She had been baking for 40 years.
30 of them in this particular bakery.
On this particular street.
And she had long since stopped worrying about being precise.
The bread she had come to understand.
Knew what it was doing.
She could not have explained this to anyone's satisfaction.
She had tried once with her daughter.
Who was a scientist.
And looked at her with the expression of a person very carefully not saying what they were thinking.
So,
Simone had stopped trying to explain.
And simply allowed it to be.
The way her hands knew.
Some mornings to add cardamom to the sourdough.
Or to shape the roll slightly differently.
Or to pull a particular loaf from the oven a minute early.
And set it aside.
As if it were waiting for someone.
The bread she believed.
Baked itself forward in time.
Just a little.
Not too far.
Just enough.
Kaitlyn pushed open the door at 7.
45 on a morning in February.
And the small bell above it gave its usual bright note.
Caitlin was in her late 20s.
Wearing a coat that was far too thin for the weather.
And she had the red-eyed,
Carefully composed look of someone who had been crying for most of the night.
And had decided that they were absolutely not going to cry anymore.
Simone watched her study the display case without seeing any of it.
And I help you.
Just,
Uh.
.
.
I don't know.
Something.
Caitlyn pressed her fingers to the glass.
I don't know what I want.
I think I might,
Said Simone.
And turn to the counter behind her.
On the rack sat a small loaf she had pulled from the oven 90 minutes ago.
Round and dense with a crust that had gone particular shade of amber she associated in her long experience with a very specific kind of comfort not the comfort of things being alright now.
But the comfort of things being alright eventually.
Which was a different flavour altogether.
She wrapped it in paper and handed it to Caitlin.
What type of bread is it?
Caitlyn asked.
This is honey and ginger.
It's good for days when you are cold all the way through.
Caitlin paid for it with coins from the bottom of her bag,
And Simone did not mention that it cost more than that.
Later,
Two years later.
Caitlin came back.
She was wearing a different coat.
And her face had the settled look of someone who has,
After considerable difficulty.
Found their footing.
She asked for the honey and ginger loathe again.
I remember you,
She said.
I was having the worst morning.
I just walked out of a job that was making me very unhappy and I didn't have another one.
And I'd spend all night trying to decide whether I was brave or just foolish.
What decided it?
Simone asked,
Already beginning to wrap the load.
The brand,
Honestly.
Caitlyn looked slightly embarrassed to say this.
I don't know how to explain it.
But when I smelled it.
.
.
I just knew.
That it would be alright.
Not straight away.
But eventually.
She paused.
I know that sounds ridiculous.
Simone smiles.
Not at all,
Said Samuel.
Who had heard this sort of thing many times before.
I'm teaching now,
" Aytlin said.
In a primary school.
It turns out I'm quite good at it.
I never would have tried teaching.
Had I not quit that job that morning.
She accepted the loaf and smiled.
A full,
Uncomplicated smile.
Nothing held back.
And went out into the street.
Which was bright and cold.
And full of people going purposefully in every direction.
Simone watched her go.
And then turn back to her ovens.
Which were already at work on tomorrow.
