The Cloud Baker

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My dad comes home from work each morning to walk me to the bus stop. He holds my hand while we walk and drinks coffee from a big mug. I like to walk next to him because he smells like sweets. Usually he doesn’t say much, he just stands over me like a giant and watches the sky.

One time though, while waiting at the bus stop, he squatted down next to me, pointed over my shoulder, and said, Jean, I want you to look at the clouds and tell me what you see.

Why? I asked.

Because Jean, he answered. Just because.

I asked him again, Why? But he didn’t reply. Instead, he picked me up, took me over to a bench, and sat me down. Then he sat down next to me, put his arm around me, and said, You know, Jean, my father was a baker too.

I know, I answered.

Well… He paused. When I was your age my father told me a story.

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My father said to me, You know, Andre, south of here, there is a special house. You know about this house, don’t you?

And I said to him, A special house? What kind of special house?

Far to the south, he replied, very far to the south, there is a remarkable house. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it. I thought all children knew about the house where the Cloud Baker lives.

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I was confused by what my father had just said to me, Jean, and he could tell just by looking at me.

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So he explained, You see, Andre, on a tiny island far, far to the south, in a place where the wind ceases to blow, there’s a very peculiar square house. It is small, and it has only one floor, but its roof is very, very tall. And protruding from the center of its roof is a large chimney. Perhaps it doesn’t sound very strange or special, but believe me, Andre, it is. This is the house where the Cloud Baker lives.

The Cloud Baker?

Yes, the Cloud Baker. And it isn’t just the house that is special. It’s the entire island. There are hundreds of palm trees surrounding the little square house and covering almost every surface of the tiny island. These trees, Andre, they aren’t quite normal. They grow quicker than grass. Each day the Cloud Baker spends many hours cutting them down so that he can stoke the fire that heats his oven. And each night, the trees grow back to the height and size that they were the day before.

Not only that, but there are hundreds of wild chickens and cats living all over the island, and of course, these animals are a little strange too. The cats all have six toes instead of five, and they use this sixth toe to do something unbelievable.

What do they do? I asked.

You see, he said to me. This baker doesn’t make cookies and cakes like I do. He bakes all the clouds that you see in the sky. And in order to do so, he needs many, many eggs, and lots and lots of sugar and milk, more than he could ever carry in a day by himself.

So all afternoon and into the evening, while the baker sleeps, the cats collect eggs from the chickens and coconuts that have fallen from the trees. Using their sixth toe like a thumb, they carry the eggs and the coconuts into the house just like you and I would, and they place them in piles in the corners of the kitchen.

About the time that you are having lunch at school, the Cloud Baker, like me, sits down to eat his dinner and begins to ready himself for bed. Like me, too, he wakes up in the evening when it is quite dark outside and the stars are rising higher into the sky. As soon as he gets out of bed, the Cloud Baker begins building the fire that will heat his oven. Then he walks down to a mysterious beach with two very large buckets and he fills them with sugar.

What!? I asked. With sugar!? But where does the sugar come from?

Ahhh… my father replied. I am glad you asked. It is a very curious thing, Andre. You see the sand of this beach isn’t really sand. It’s sugar. Nobody knows why or how it is possible. It’s just the way that it is. And so the Cloud Baker walks down to the sugar-covered beach and scoops the sugar right up with his hands until his buckets are full. Then, while he is waiting for his fire to burn down, he sits down with the many cats of the island and drains the milk from the coconuts while the cats crack the eggs and separate the yolks from the whites. When all of these preparations have been done, and not before, the Cloud Baker begins to mix the cloud batter for the day.

First, he stirs the sugar into the milk. Then he heats the sugar and milk until they are very hot. While the mixture is slowly heating up, he puts the egg whites into a very big bowl and, with a whisk, he mixes them until they become very light and fluffy. After that, the cats lift up the pan with hot milk and sugar in it and slowly add the milk and sugar to the egg whites while the Cloud Baker continues whisking and whisking until the whole mixture is so airy that it almost floats away on its own. This is a very delicate procedure, Andre. And it isn’t something that just any man can do. In fact, no one other than the Cloud Baker himself is capable of doing this, and even he must be very careful, especially at this point.

When the batter is smoother, lighter, and shinier than you can imagine, the Cloud Baker adds the most important ingredient of all. He picks up the tiniest bit of ash from the fire and folds into the batter for color. Then he carefully scoops the batter into hundreds of oddly shaped cloud molds and places the molds in the oven where the batter slowly lifts up, rises out of the chimney, and floats away across the sky.

This all happens when the sky in the east first begins to pale in color and the roosters, who sleep in the palm trees, wake up. As the first clouds climb from the chimney and drift away, the roosters begin their call. They cluck and crow with excitement the same way that you and I cheer and clap and laugh when we see fireworks. And just like you and I always call out for more, so do the roosters.

And that’s not all, Andre. Do you know why this marvelous man does what he does?

I shook my head no.

He does it for you, Andre, and for all the other little boys and girls of the world too. He does it so that when you look at the sky, there will be amazing things for you to see. And for little boys and girls like you, whose fathers are bakers, I think he does it so that you can help inspire us old men to make cakes and cookies that are fabulous and new.

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My dad turned to me then and said, Do you see why I asked you to look at the clouds and tell me what you see, Jean?

Suddenly, I understood. I looked up to him and nodded. Again, he pointed over my shoulder and asked, What do you see?
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I looked from the end of his finger to the sky. Then I looked from cloud to cloud until I found one that I recognized. There, Dad, that one there. Do you see it? It looks just like a giraffe.

And he said, Ah yes, Jean, I see it. It’s that one over there, isn’t it? Thank you.
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That afternoon when I came home from school, my dad was already asleep. But there, on the kitchen table, I found a plate of my favorite cookies. They were all different shapes and sizes. The one I liked best was sitting on the very top. It had a long neck and seemed to be running through the sky.

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Note: This is a childrens’ story that I wrote quite a few years ago. I’ve always been interested in seeing it get illustrated. If anyone would like to take on the challenge, please let me know.