It's 6:45 am. Dark as midnight. I hear the diesel van park with a rattle and a thud. The gate slowly opens and from my bed I picture this man, who has been at the Castle every morning at this hour. His steps are fast paced against the gravel.
I want him to wear a beret, loose fitting clothes and leather shoes. I suspect he's in his 60's with a mustache and tired morning eyes. He hangs a barrel Sack of canvas over his shoulders. I want to believe its contents keeps him warm on these cold dark mornings...
He's the bread delivery guy.
As we near the end of the trip, I sneak out of my warm bed to get a look at this reliable morning guest. Peering thru the window into the darkness, I catch a glimpse.
He is young. 20 ish. He's wearing neon running clothes and bright orange sneakers. He's carrying a big box like a tray piled with breads and croissants. He's got a headset in. The white cord stands out in the dawns darkness.
I suspect he's off for a run after his dark morning deliveries.
He walks empty handed back to his truck at the gate.
I quietly wish I had not looked! I get back under the covers.
I needed him to wear that beret! I saw the loaves of gluten goodness jetting out of his barrel sack. Those tired 60 something bakers eyes...wow..how I miss them now!
Regrets. I have a few.
I snuggle up to my sleeping husband. Warm under the covers.
Who cares about the Beret! ❤️ it's fresh french bread...delivered. A different kind of heaven.