Of Coats and Loaves

Of Coats and Loaves

(“The person who has two tunics must share with the person who has none, and the person who has food must do likewise.” Luke 3:11)

I like thrift shop finds—the forty dollar suit, black and
wavy white threads, was perfect for a wedding the next day.
It left me two hundred dollars to spend on a tie.
But Sacramento was too hot to shop
in used bins for my next chapter in a North Dakota winter.
Long-johns and parkas bulged my budgetary allowances.

I always think of you, friend, when I shovel the snow here now.
I can sweat at even 30 below.
You gave me your only military thermal outerwear. Quilted
and camo green
I pulled the pants on over my jeans
and the jacket kept the cold away long enough to
clear the driveway for the next round of blown snow
or blizzard slush. For 30 years I
wore them and I wonder where you had been stationed
that you had this pair to spare.

I love coffee shop bakes—the chocolate croissant you can find
nowhere else. The lobby is coffee perfume the moment you
pass through the door. But stand for a second, and like a wine
taster
breathing through his teeth,
inhale slowly. The bread is calling just behind the hiss of
the espresso machines. Like a farmhouse Sunday afternoon
the baking bread fills every corner with friendship and
anticipation.

I always think of you, friend, when I remember the homemade
loaf you brought to me the day I pined for familiar eyes.
You could not stay, but the glance and package of grace was
enough.
I thanked you and watched you drive away.
I cut a slice and toasted it. It warmed as the
toaster glowed, the aroma slowly filled the kitchen like
new-bake, and I put some coffee on. I opened the butter and
waited for the toast to golden. As the knife spread
I heard the alto crunch and could see the lines of your smile.
I slide the bread between my teeth, the butter plays on my tongue.
I think about the dough you rolled, the sound like taffy being pulled.
I see the flour on your apron, a little on your nose. And as I chew I
know
the coffee will be silky.

And the clothes keep me warm,
and the loaf revived more than
my hunger for homemade days.
And the way you gave
always brought your face to my mind.