My Secret Fantasy
I have a fantasy about working in a bakery.
The kind where you can walk up while it’s still dark and they already have trays and trays of bread and pan dulce ready for you, along with fresh coffee and ice cold milk in the little cooler.
I have a dream of waking up so early it’s almost still night. I bundle up, get on the road, and put on my favorite podcast. As I drive, I see the lights of the city still twinkling. It’s freezing cold but the bakery soon gets steamy.
By daybreak, we’ve kneaded and stirred and shaped and baked until the shelves are bursting with warm, yeasty, sustaining goodies.
I’m on the first morning crew, done with my shift by the time most people are getting to work. I step outside and fill my lungs with the cool early air. The morning is mine.
As long as we’re dreaming, Cute Banker takes the kids to school so, by the time I get home, I get the house to myself. I’ve already put in a day’s work, but the day is still just beginning, and I’m free to shape my time as I please.