The endless whir of dreams.
Today my restless mind woke me up at the normal long-before-sunrise hour and my feet hopped out of bed. Out of sheer muscle memory I found myself standing in The Bakery kitchen and grabbing a mixing bowl. That’s when I realized, there’s no mix today.
It’s a funny thing, habit. Bread mixing has always been my least favorite bakery activity. The thing that makes you sigh, and sometimes groan, in daily grind. But standing there, with an empty bowl in an oddly quiet kitchen, I missed it. In the three years since we opened, I can count the days in single digits that didn’t start with mixing flour and water. Whether we were open for walk-in service or filling standing orders, I mixed. I folded. I fermented, and I shaped loaf after loaf. This morning, I almost didn’t know what to do.
Truth be told, we’ve been juggling more things than any sane person should for a long time. From the day I decided to offer a pumpkin tart on our local Facebook community page, I wanted the moon and stars. To give every bit of my skill and creativity to every loaf and pastry. And then do it better. To give every bit of us in caring for our guests. And then do more. To give to our community. And then give more. To fill the hopes and expectations of every person walking in for savory loaf or sweet treat. Then offer more. And to build something truly amazing, with every day the community’s support propelled us further. Then build more. My heart and it’s love for what we’re doing doesn’t know any other way. So, today, standing in this kitchen without the whir of dough hooks or billowing heat from the ovens, it’s a little broken.
Sometimes ambition makes us believe pure will and a never-give-up mindset can conquer all. As if we’re wearing a super hero cape. For the last fifty years that’s been pretty true, I was born filled with stubborn make-it-happen-ness. And while that mindset and determination is never likely to change, age and wisdom opens our eyes to the real cost.
While we’re trying desperately to make more and more bread in a small batch artisan process to avoid disappointed faces, we haven’t been able to have a real conversation with family in months. While we’re sourcing and resourcing ingredients to fight rising costs without price increases or quality loss, I haven’t said three words to my husband about anything but business in weeks. While we’re continually expanding to try to meet demand, we’re holding onto full time jobs to cover the cost of improvements in a very low margin, high risk venture. While we’re struggling to be able to afford ever-increasing utility costs and taxes, we’re working more over time in those “day jobs” we hoped would have gone long before now. While we’re spending every minute we’re not working either job maintaining, repairing and building, we haven’t had a real meal or taken care of our health in years. While we’re making hopes and promises with nothing but brute force push-though-it, we’re crashing disheartened when we stumble with exhaustion. And, while we’re fighting to build stronger and better, we’re losing the very spark that drove us to put flour in a mixer from the very first day.
A couple of days ago Mr. Amazing and I wanted to go out to breakfast. To sit and enjoy a real meal, spending our effort not on mixing or dishes, but asking each other how we’re doing. Really. For the first time in, well, I have no idea how long, we did. When I looked across that table I saw the love of my life, the man who has spent every breathing second supporting this crazy dream, truly deserving a better life than we’re living. We talked about the things we want from life, that we’ve quietly set aside, day after day. And we knew things had to change.
So, today, I stand quietly in a kitchen that hasn’t been silent in years. with both sadness and hope. We’ve given this little bakery every bit of us, every second. What we’ve learned and done is nothing short of living a dream. We’ve gotten to dance in “someday” hopes. We’ve gotten to whir and blend with ambitious creativity. We’ve gotten to live a dream I’ve had since childhood, when I picked up my first mixing bowl.
It’s a blessing that brought us here, with genuine gratitude, ready to ask what’s next.
The truth is, I don’t know for sure. Yet. We’re going to take a little time away from baking and finish the seven hundred and thirty one ambitious projects underway at 1871. We’re going to call long lost family. We’re going to go on a date. Maybe take a trip to one of the many places we’ve always wanted to go. Do some of the things we’ve wanted to do. When we’ve eaten a few real meals, slept a few more hours a night, and taken a few real breaths, we’ll open the door to the future of 1871 with renewed inspiration, learned wisdom, and ever-determined zeal. And, of course, the whir of dough hooks.
