I still remember pointing my chubby fingers and smudging the glass display cases as I ordered. There was something about a donut back then. They could melt away the troubles of a husky and awkward pre -teen boy. They could bring all of us together, if only for a few minutes, to enjoy something as a family. They were able to lift our spirits, and make everything better for a little while. It was a fond ritual that I looked forward to while we lived there.
Flash forward eighteen years. My four year old daughter was giving me grief this morning about going to her last day of preschool this week. The pouty lower lip, the crossed arms, the Jell-O legs. It was all there. A full on fit was imminent. At the request of my wife, I did what any self -respecting parent would do. I bribed her.
“How about we stop for a donut on the way to school?”
“A pink one?”
“Sure.”
“Yeeeeeaaaaaaaahhh!”
As she bit into a lump of lard and sugar with pink sprinkles, I saw her four year old stress and troubles fade away. The ability of a child to live in the moment is breathtaking. For next few moments in the car, my little girl was truly without a care in the world.
* * *
Donuts don’t really have that effect on me anymore. Since I’m officially an adult, it is my business to over complicate things; to find all the “whys” instead of the “why nots.” The panacea a fried ring of batter and sugar once had no longer has the appeal it used to. I’m not totally sure why.
Adult me is always concerned about what’s next, whatever that may be. It’s often hard to keep my mind on the here and now. Maybe that’s the key to the donut experience. It’s a place holder to anchor me to a moment of time right now. It’s a simple reminder that, at twelve, four, or thirty years old, life can still be lived in the fading moments right in front of my eyes.
Maybe I’ll get a donut for me the next time we stop.
Photo credit: Kevin Lawver
