On Monday, she got the call.
That they were being shut down.

She immediately froze,
as if being quiet enough
could erase the news.

She hung up,
feeling a pit in her stomach.
The room began spinning around her.

What was she going to do?

Years of beloved memories
filled every corner of the room.
All she could see
was her life slipping away.

She closed her eyes.
And suddenly, she was six again.

Coming home from school
in the crisp fall evenings,
she would open the door
to the familiar smell
of the freshly baked goods.

She could see herself.
Peering up at the flour covered countertops
As her mother worked.

She remembered her dad’s smile,
every time she asked to help.

And the special apron
her grandmother had sewn for her,
covered in every color
she could ever imagine.

It had been her most prized possession.

The memories came crashing down around her.

Birthdays.
The special cakes prepared just for her,
layers of all the flavors she desired.

She remembered helping decorate them,
The biggest grin on her face,
Making sure the details were just right.

Then came the holiday memories,
Her favorite being Christmas.

She remembered sneaking gingerbread cookies
away as fast as possible
so nobody would notice.

She remembered always being told.
She smelled like cinnamon.

That had always made her giggle.

No matter what she did,
she could never seem to escape it.

And in that moment,
all she wished for
was to be able to go back.

Back to when all she knew
was that this is where her family was.

That this was her home.

Back to when she never had to worry
about the money,
About keeping her bakery open,
Or about losing
the last memory of her family.

Because the bakery
It was all she had left of them.

And now what?

That was going to disappear too?