Morning Bread

Author: Leah Harrington

Every morning, my grandmother baked bread. The smell of yeast and warm crusts filled the kitchen, curling around us like a hug. I watched her knead the dough with calloused hands, fingers moving with care and rhythm.

One morning, she said, “Bread is like life. You have to work it, stretch it, and let it rest.” I didn’t understand then, but I do now. Kneading, waiting, and baking, patience turns simple ingredients into something wonderful.

I still bake bread, and every loaf reminds me of her.