Homemade Bread
Walking home on a cold fall day, the wind whistled like a train, passing over a crossing. I pulled my coat tightly around my body, wishing I had remembered to grab mittens and hat as I left home in the early morning. But I was sure my sister would be along soon and drive me home. I tucked my chin into my chest and walked fast against the wind. My thoughts turned to our warm house and the warm crusty bread that might be waiting on the counter. I would run awhile then slow to a walk, looking back for the familiar pickup. Why didn’t my sister come, didn’t she know I was freezing cold? It was starting to snow, first hard little kernels, like beebees dropping out of the sky, each one stinging my face. Then they turned to moist flakes, and caressed my face like a babies wet kiss. I pulled my coat tighter, ducked my head and pushed harder for home, evidently my sister had to stay for cheerleading practice. It was snowing hard by the time I reached home wet and cold.
Mom met me at the door. “Della where are your hat and mittens? You are going to catch your death of cold.” She scolded me, as she helped me out of my wet clothes. As we hustled into the kitchen and I stood, clad only in my underwear, before the wood cookstove, the smell of warm bread surrounded me, my stomach growled like a bear waking from his long winters sleep. I forgot how cold and wet I was, my mouth watered and I reached for the knife. Mom quickly thwarted that as she sent me upstairs to change into my dry chore clothes. Our animals had to be taken care of. I changed clothes and ran back down stairs sure that Mom would have a slice of bread waiting for me. I could hardly get it in my mouth fast enough. The heel, warm, and crusty, slathered with homemade butter, melted in my mouth. I added homemade strawberry jam, and washed it down with a glass of cold milk. I could have eaten the entire loaf and my mouth waters just thinking about it. I can taste it as if it were yesterday. All too soon I trudged toward the barn, milk bucket in hand, Mona was pulling into the driveway, home at last. I didn't stop to talk, the cows were waiting to be milked. Hugs To All..OWAV:)...To be continued
Mom met me at the door. “Della where are your hat and mittens? You are going to catch your death of cold.” She scolded me, as she helped me out of my wet clothes. As we hustled into the kitchen and I stood, clad only in my underwear, before the wood cookstove, the smell of warm bread surrounded me, my stomach growled like a bear waking from his long winters sleep. I forgot how cold and wet I was, my mouth watered and I reached for the knife. Mom quickly thwarted that as she sent me upstairs to change into my dry chore clothes. Our animals had to be taken care of. I changed clothes and ran back down stairs sure that Mom would have a slice of bread waiting for me. I could hardly get it in my mouth fast enough. The heel, warm, and crusty, slathered with homemade butter, melted in my mouth. I added homemade strawberry jam, and washed it down with a glass of cold milk. I could have eaten the entire loaf and my mouth waters just thinking about it. I can taste it as if it were yesterday. All too soon I trudged toward the barn, milk bucket in hand, Mona was pulling into the driveway, home at last. I didn't stop to talk, the cows were waiting to be milked. Hugs To All..OWAV:)...To be continued
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