Slice of Life 2026: 22 of 31- The Bread Lady

In March, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

When I was in middle school, I took care of a pony that lived down the street from me. Almost every day, the bus dropped me off at the corner of my road, and I took a detour to the local bakery before heading to the barn and the wheelbarrows. I'd buy a loaf of French bread from the Ann Howard Cookery for $1, and rip off pieces throughout my barn choices. By the time I got. home every night, I'd eaten about half (maybe sometimes more) of that loaf. My bread weakness goes back a long time. 

The other day, Clare and I were in the car together. About a mile from our house, we passed a left turn, West Mary Drive. I've often noticed the turn because of the happy looking back yard. The house on the corner has a skating rink in the winter and a playscape in the summer. If I were a kid, I'd be happy to live in that house. 

"That's the bread lady," Clare said. 

"What are you talking about?" I asked. 

"She sells bread out of her house," Clare said. "Didn't you see the little storage thing by the road?" Clare has a way of knowing things like this, and she is a pretty good bread maker herself. 

I glanced in my rearview mirror, and I did see a structure that reminded me of a little library that people have outside of their homes, except it was a little bigger than any little library I'd seen. 

Just past the left turn into West Mary Drive, I turned into the grocery store parking lot. 

"Are you turning around?" Clare asked. 

"No," I said, "although it's tempting. I'm just taking the cut-through." You can drive through the access road behind the grocery store to get to the shops on the other side. 

"Her bread has gotten a lot of five-star reviews," Clare said. "Apparently she sells out every day."

"How have I not known this?" I said, considering a turn-around. 

Clare shrugged. 

I don't need a lot of convincing when it comes to good bread. Instead of continuing on the cut-through road, I turned around. Clare started to giggle. Unlike my seventh-grade self, I was able to resist the urge to tear off a piece of our honey wheat loaf. In much more civilized fashion, I cut and toasted a piece when we got home. So did everyone else who was around, and we made quick work of that bread. 

Let me tell you. If you are traveling along Bushy Hill Rd, and you see the sign for West Mary Drive, and there is bread in that bread house, stop. Venmo Helen, and go straight home to toast a piece with butter. You won't be disappointed. 

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Pictures are from the Honeybear Breads website.