Graciela’s Day

Dear Friends of The Shelter,

Today the Reverend Bentham let me bake bread. A week ago, he took me to the health department to make sure I was healthy and could work in the kitchen. The health department gave me a blood test for hepatitis and a chest X ray for tuberculosis. They even checked my poop for worms. You can bet I washed my hands more than once!

Doc Manny, the house physician, trains us about hygiene and being clean, before we’re allowed to bake bread. Wash your hands often, sing Pop Goes the Weasel before you rinse them off. Germs are sticky. Sing a whole verse of the song and be careful. Never pick anything up from the floor. But I know about clean cooking because I’ve baked bread before for my children when we all lived in a house.

I love to mix the yeast and flour. The scent of fresh dough reminds me of baking for the kids before I came down with breast cancer. Cancer is why I lost the house, paying for the chemotherapy.

The smell of baking bread, How happy the aroma makes me! Reminds me of Jesus and hope. Reminds me of church and Holy Communion. You know Baby Jesus would help us more, if He wash’t so young. The Devil is the Devil not because of who he is but because he’s old and has learned how to torment us. That’s why I’m stuck in the streets with no place to live.

At lunch, we took the fresh steaming loaves to the tables for the residents. I got to serve the people who run The Shelter. The Reverend Stephen Robert Bentham and Doc Manny. Molca, the ex boxer, who almost lost an eye in the ring, though he was still in his teens. He’s our utility man, our go-to guy for repairs. Professor Rhoda Bart was present and especially Juanito, our mascot who stays here because his parents are a mess.

They ate the whole loaf that I brought to their table. Even the crumbs. I was so proud . When I went to sleep that night in my room, I still smelled the bread. The moon was shining through the window, like hope for a better day!