The Little Town with the Morning Bread - childhood dream's ✨🥖🌱

The Little Town with the Morning Bread - childhood dream's ✨🥖🌱

There was a time, long ago, when I was a child — maybe seven, maybe eight — when my world felt strange and heavy.
I had just come to Denmark, everything unfamiliar, everything cold in a way I couldn't explain.

But at night, when I closed my eyes, I would slip into "another life" sometimes.

In this life, I lived in a small town that felt warmer than anywhere I knew. The streets were narrow, the walls sun-kissed like old Italian houses — though I never really knew if it was Italy. Maybe it was just a dream of peace.

And in that town, I had a father.
Not the father I would later meet in real life — the sailor, the wanderer, the man I barely knew, who carried storms instead of bread.
No, this father was a baker.
He owned a small bakery, waking before the sun to knead dough with hands that worked with love, not violence.

Sometimes I would wake in the dream and walk to his bakery, the smell of fresh bread guiding my steps.
I would find him there — flour on his hands, a soft smile on his face.
Some mornings we talked, laughed, even shared a bit of bread together before I brought some home.
Other mornings I simply grabbed a warm loaf and walked back alone, the quiet of the morning wrapping around me like a friend.

And though my grandmother in real life was no baker — she was my only real provider, my only safe place — I think those dreams wove a little of her into those moments, too.
A quiet morning, a warm piece of bread, a bit of love you didn’t have to fight for.

I never knew why those dreams came…
Maybe it was God giving me something soft to hold onto when everything else was falling apart after I was taken away from grandmother".
Or maybe it was the child in me creating a life I wished I had.

But even now, after almost thirty years, I remember them.
Not like dreams — but like a life I somehow lived in between the cracks of This life as maybe a safe space, between the many scary days and dreams.

And maybe, even back then, without knowing it, my heart understood a simple truth:

“Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a fattened ox and hatred with it.”
(Proverbs 15:17)

I would take simple bread with love over riches and sacrifices — any life, any time 

Peace be with you 🥖🌱✨💚☮️

May God provide us all the daily bread and needs AMEN

- Natalia Magdalena Botvinjevs