When I relocated to the city I wasn't there to start leaving a big life style, I only went there to start my life from scratch. The year has been tough for me and I was searching for a place to live and start working. Before coming to the city, I already go a job, but is not paying much. But I still need a place where I can lay my head after work.
Searching for an apartment doesn't come easy. Some places I saw have small rooms, some are too expensive while some places looks like where pig live looking dirty and unkept. The money I came with is almost exhausting and I must be careful to get a place.
One hot afternoon, I was walking down the street that had big tall trees and some old shops in line. I perceived the sweet smell of fresh bread. I followed sweet aroma which I noticed earlier and it lead me to a building which has a sign post written on it "Gomez & Family". On top the shop was a window with nice curtain being blowed gently by wind.
The agent that I went there with said to me "the place is clean but is not fancy".
He was right. The place was small. The entire walls need to be painted and the floor is made of wood, which makes a loud nose while walking on it. But it had a warm feeling. From the kitchen window I could see the bakery roof and if I comes out I could see people passing by. I quickly signed the agreement paper because I like the place.
That night, when I was arranging my box the sweet smell of the bread came into my room passing through the wooden floor, I smiled and felt at home.
My first week was very busy. I do leave my apartment very early in the morning and comes back late night. I barely had breakfast because I wanted to save money, at night, tiredness will almost make me to skip dinner. I then told myself everything is okay while everything is not okay.
One morning I opened my door and saw a small brown paper bag. I look inside and saw a fresh baked bread wrapped inside the paper bag. It didn't touch it, because I assumed someone mistakenly left it there.
That same day in the evening, I heard a knock on my door. When I checked was a woman with apron covered with white powered flour.
“Hello sir, you didn't take the bread?” she asked.
“Oh… I thought it wasn’t for me,” I replied shyly.
She smiled. “we do see you every morning rushing to work, bread is better than no breakfast.”
I was just surprised. I thanked her many times. But she told me is okay I shouldn't worry. "We open 6 am every morning you don't need to come around, I will always bring some to your door" she said before leaving.
The next morning, the bread was there again. This time I ate it. It was soft, fresh, and still warm. For the first time in days, I felt full and ready to work.
From that day, there was bread at my door every morning. Sometimes it was sourdough with a crispy crust. Sometimes it was sweet rolls covered in sugar.
One Saturday morning which I didn't go to work, I decided to visit the bakery to tell them thank you for what they have been doing for me. The I saw Mr. Gomez through the window, He waved me with a kind smile.Inside the shop was smelling nice with a great taste of fresh baked breads. Mrs. Gomez gave me a bag of pastries and said, “You remind me of our son when he first moved out. He didn’t eat enough either.”
This became our quiet routine. They gave me bread. I sometimes left thank-you notes inside the empty paper bag before putting it back at their shop. I gradually started feeling relaxed with my new environment I greet the postman, waved at the florist man across my street and sometimes talk with the aged woman who fed her birds. The bread was feeding more than my stomach it was helping me feel like I belonged.
After some months, I got a small raise at work. I could afford more groceries now, and I even started baking for fun. One Saturday, I took some cinnamon muffins I had made and gave them to Mrs. Gomez. She laughed and said, “So you’re competing with us now?” and hugged me.
After one year later. I found a bigger apartment that got my taste, which is very close to where I work. At first I felt bad leaving my former home because of the love I had with my neighbours and the free food I get from the bakery every morning. On my last morning there, I opened my door and found the usual bread bag but this time, it was tied with a red ribbon. Inside was bread and a small card that read:
“For the mornings you skipped breakfast. For the days you needed warmth. For the stranger who became our neighbor you’ll always be welcome here.”
I read the card countless times. At this point is not about the bread I get every morning, but the love and feelings which I have been attached to the environment.
Even after moving, I went back to the bakery every Sunday to buy bread and talk to the Gomezes. They always insisted I take something extra “on the house.” Every bite I had flash my mind back to those early morning when I open my door and receive a warm gift.
The best thing that happens in our life doesn't have to be a big event or expensive gifts. They're usually the small things we ignore. Like a loaf of bread lying on my door step every morning coming from a pure heart who doesn't expect anything in return.
