Bram and the Baker

Tired from his long flight in the rain, Bram comes to rest on a window box. Raindrops sit along his back, slowly falling as walked carefully through to the window. Peering inside through a patch of zinnia, he spots a young woman mixing ingredients in a large red bowl. Hesitantly, he moves closer, shaking the droplets from his feathers.

“Don’t worry, little one,” the woman says. “It won’t be long before you can try some of mummy’s baking”. She smiles at the small bump on her belly, caressing it gently with her hand.

Checking the recipe, she retrieves a silver bowl from the neighbouring countertop, holding a viscous liquid as thick as honey.

“As we can see,” she narrates, her voice now animated and perky, “professional baker Clem Wheeler adds the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients.”

Taking a wooden spoon, she incorporates a cup of chocolate chips into the mixture, folding them in until a soft and doughy blob rests in the bowl.

Meanwhile, Bram sits silent and still, intrigued by the curious happenings of the messy kitchen. Looking around, he spots a packet of peanuts sitting on the island bench. Oh, what he would give for a chance at those peanuts. Or anything that might silence his grumbling stomach.

Clem takes a clump of dough, pressing it into a ball and rolling it in her hands. “I bet,” she says, “that you’ll want to make all different kinds of cookies.” Lost in thought, her mind drifts off to her future as a mother and the delectable treats she’ll one day bake with her child. “Heart-shaped shortbread or gingerbread dinosaurs or leopard-print sugar cookies.”

Bram tilts his head, wondering whether those cookies taste as interesting as they sound.

“Well, whatever you want to bake,” Clem says, coming back to reality, “I’m sure they’ll be perfect. Just like you.” She pats her belly and places the piece of dough onto the tray.

After a few minutes, the tray fills up with circular blobs of dough, each promising a heavenly experience to the one lucky enough to taste it. Bram can feel his stomach gurgling, almost louder than the rain as it calls out to the tray.

Washing her hands clean of left-over dough in the sink, Clem sends the beige lumps off to bake, bathing them in the golden glow of the oven. While her chocolatey creations cook, she gets to work on the dishes. Grabbing a sponge, she sends her bowls off to soak while she meticulously scrubs at the utensils, flushing out the left-over ingredients.

As her hands move on their own, now second nature after years of cleaning up her baking adventures, Clem hums lightly. The sound is warm and cosy, like a hug from her grandmother. She rocks her head back and forth, losing herself in her chores.

~

Before long, the delicate perfume of freshly baked cookies fills the room, seeping under a small break in the window and into Bram’s nostrils. Leaning forward, he slips on a fallen leaf and hits his beak on the glass, cowering behind a begonia soon after.

“Oh!” Clem says, seeing through his leafy disguise. “Hello there, mister crow.”

The two lock eyes through the rain-spattered windowpane.

“Wait here.”

The whirling of the oven fan stops, and the door creaks open.

“Here you go,” she says, sliding a napkin with a fresh cookie under the window. “I hope you like it. Be careful, it’s still hot.” Clem takes a step back and waits for a response.

Hesitantly, Bram comes out from behind the assortment of leaves, carefully stepping onto the ledge. He moves the cookie closer with his talon and takes a small nibble on the side. A mixture of chocolate and sugar coats his tongue. He gives her a small chirp in gratitude.

Clem smiles, seeing that her new friend is a big fan of her baking.