Finding Healing Through Baking
At sixteen, grief left me alone, but the kitchen became my refuge.
I began baking pies for hospice patients and shelters—each crust filled with love, memory, and hope.
A Hard Beginning
After a fire took my family, I lived in a shelter, studying by day and baking by night.
My aunt said it was pointless, but the scent of cinnamon and apples became my therapy—my way to heal.
An Unexpected Gift
One day, a hospice nurse brought me a pecan pie and a note from a blind patient who’d received my pies.
She wrote that they filled her final months with warmth and had arranged for me to inherit her home and savings.
Full Circle of Kindness
Now, I bake in her kitchen, leaving notes that say, “Baked with love—from someone who’s been where you are.”
Her kindness taught me that generosity can turn grief into grace.
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