One time I baked three loaves of bread. This was a long time ago, before I had heard about this baking job (starts tomorrow!) I wrapped one loaf up and took it over to Thom's house. He didn't ask me in even though that's what I really wanted. I gave him the bread and left.
Later he told me that he had chucked the bread into the snowy field behind his house. He also said that he didn't have much food and kind of regretted tossing the bread.
I remember how moody he was, but I also thought that it was something that I had done. At the time, it had to do with getting to know some friends of his and getting along with them pretty well. I thought he was unhappy about that.
Later in our friendship, after I left New Mexico and we would write letters he was more consistently loving. And this would never cease to surprise me. Even at the end, a week or so before he died, he said to me, "you are my prize."
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