Daily Bread

Her eyes stared at the ceiling as she laid in bed. She moved her head to the cool pillow on the other side, hoping the fresh feeling would soothe her back to sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept well. The days blurred into each other. She hadn’t found the strength to get out of bed much lately. And yet sleep somehow still eluded her. 

She got up in a haze of sleepless delirium, walked down the dark hallway and into the kitchen. The oven light was on. She didn’t know why, as she couldn’t recall having used it recently. 

While she drank a glass of water, she stared at the oven trying to remember when she could have turned the light on. And why would she, she barely had an interest in food these days. She opened it and saw something she had never seen: a door, large enough to crawl through. The light emanated from beyond the door. 

She pushed her hand through the opening and stared at a long passageway. She crawled inside. Not normally the adventurous type, she put aside all rationality to get to the bottom of the mystery that had now unfolded before her. 

It was dark and narrow inside. She crawled with caution, moving her hand gently one before the other. Until she felt something soft and familiar: she had squished a small piece of bread with one hand.

She reached the end of the passageway, arriving at the source of the light. Sun hit her face and burned her eyes as she fell from the opening and onto soft, damp grass. The passageway had taken her outside. But not outside her house. No, this was different.  Lush green trees, colorful vegetation, deep blue skies surrounded her now.  

“Follow me,” a soft voice said in the distance.  Someone else was here in the world beyond the oven. She got up, following not only the voice but her own curiosity as well. 

“Just a bit further,” the voice said again, guiding her through lush surroundings and finally to a drab and colorless house. 

I’m not going in there, she thought. 

“You’re here,” the voice said. 

“Where’s here? Why is there a door in my oven? Who are you? And most importantly, have I lost my mind?”

She walked slowly to the house, turned the knob, and saw movement coming from the kitchen. She found a familiar face standing inside it as she made her way inside. 

“Grandma?” Her eyes and heart filled with confusion but before she could ask anything she blurted out the only thing that felt right: “I miss you”. 

Her grandmother was baking bread. It was her favorite memory of their time together. 

“You’re lost,” her grandmother said matter-of-factly. “And I want you to find yourself again. Get up and get moving.”  

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“The sky is the daily bread of our eyes,” handing me a warm piece of bread and an equally warm smile.