The scent of cinnamon

The warm, spicy scent of cinnamon wafted through the heavy air.

The quaint little bakery was filled with a sense of work and diligence.

A young woman took a full tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls out of the oven.

A short glance at the old cuckoo clock on the wall told her that it was almost time to open up the bakery.

Hopefully, it will be a busy day.

But even if it wouldn’t, she always had her loyal daily customers to keep her company.

Mary took a final look through the lovely room making sure everything would be ready for the hungry clients.

The pastries in the display case made Mary’s mouth water. The array of delicious goods had been baked by her the day before. It had been quite tiring, but also very enjoyable.

There were buttery croissants, hearty bread loaves, chocolate muffins, cakes, biscuits, doughnuts, and scones.

And now the fresh cinnamon rolls of course.

It was hot and stuffy in the bakery, but despite that, this was one of Mary’s favourite places.

Although it was only one week ago that Mary completely took over the cozy little bakery from her parents, she always felt at home here.

She grew up in this place.

As long as she could remember, this bakery had been a place of family, warmth, joy, and laughter.

Mary was happy that her parents had given her the family-owned bakery after their retirement, but this also placed a lot of pressure and responsibility on her.

Yet she was sure that she would manage just fine. After all, she helped out in this place since she was a little girl.

Mary went up to the wooden door of the bakery and turned the „closed“ sign around so that it would read „open“ to all the passers-by on the street.

She didn’t have to wait long until her first customer came.

The old lady was a daily client, frequently visiting the family bakery for years now.

The doorbell rang softly, announcing her best customer’s entrance. Mary felt as if she instantly brightened the room with her appearance.

"Hello, dear Mary! How are you today on this lovely morning?"

The old lady whom Mary’s family only referred to as "Edith", came up to the counter to greet her young friend with a warm hug.

Mary observed with concern that Edith was walking slower and seemed less energetic than usual.

"I am just fine Edith, but how about you? You seem rather pale."

"Oh I’m sure it’s nothing dear, maybe I just need something in my stomach to lift my spirits! Although I am not sure what I could order today!" The old lady wore a puzzled expression as if she couldn’t decide between all the sweet treats in the showcase.

Both of them chuckled; it was their daily joke. After all, Edith ordered the same thing every single day:

A freshly baked cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee with a splash of milk.

Mary enjoyed playing along with their little routine. "Well, if you can’t decide Edith, I’ll just give you one of those fresh cinnamon rolls over there! I just took them out of the oven — what a coincidence!"

They laughed heartily as Edith made herself comfortable in the seat by the window, where she had sat every day for many years.

As Edith enjoyed the fragrant cinnamon roll and the hot coffee, they were chatting animatedly about this and that.

Throughout this morning, there came many customers keeping young Mary busy, but she always found the time for her dear friend Edith.

Shortly before lunch break the old woman would set out to her little house on the end of the street, where she would spend the rest of her day.

The following week was especially busy for Mary, as she added some new autumn recipes to her collection.

Yet she always found the time to spend some time with Edith, and the first cinnamon roll was always reserved for the old lady who visited her every day.

The days went on like that without a change, and with enough work to keep Mary up and running.

Until one morning.

Mary waited very long for her old friend to come, but Edith did not show up.

As her worries grew, Mary remembered that yesterday, as they parted, Edith did not say "I’ll see you tomorrow dear, bright and early!" as she usually did, but "Goodbye Mary dear!"

That was indeed uncommon and never occurred before.

Suddenly, a customer entered the quaint bakery, interrupting Mary’s worried thoughts.

As she rang up the old man, he said:

"Did you hear the news yet? The old lady, Edith, she died yesterday."

After this shocking discovery, Mary closed down for that day being stricken with grief.

That’s why Edith said, "Goodbye!", and not "I’ll see you!"

As she mechanically cleaned up the bakery, Mary discovered a piece of paper being left behind by one of the customers.

It lay on Edith’s spot.

As she looked closer, she saw that it was a letter addressed to herself, Mary.

She opened the lavender-scented envelope and began to read Edith’s neat hand-writing:

Dear Mary, I am writing this letter to you, to tell you how much I love you.

I don’t think I ever told you that in person.

But ever since I have known you, you have been like a daughter to me.

My daily visits to your lovely bakery have been the highlight of my day, and your wonderful cinnamon rolls the best I have ever eaten.

We spent many beautiful hours in this quaint place, I am sincerely thankful for that.

Thank you for all the pleasant talks we have had, and the delicious goods we’ve eaten.

Please do not be sad and surrender to grief, I want you to be happy my girl.

I want you to remember me with a smile my dear Mary, or even better, with a cinnamon roll before you!

I will always love you.

Edith

With tears in her eyes, Mary looked up from the meaningful piece of paper to the empty seat before her.

But the place Edith had in her heart, would never be.

She would try to do as the old lady had wished for, and remember her dear friend with a smile on her lips, not tears in her eyes.

The following days were easier for Mary, knowing that Edith wouldn’t have wanted her to be sad all the time.

The years passed, and every time Mary thought about her dear old friend Edith, she could do so with a smile.

And every time she would bake cinnamon rolls, Edith’s favourites, a certain scent reminded her of her loyal customer and friend.

The scent of cinnamon.