Member-only story
Want A Better Relationship with Yourself? Find Your Donuts
On Thursdays, I buy donuts. A white box of thin cardboard, the familiar blue cursive of Entenmann’s printed on the corner, the chocolate glaze smooth and bright through the cellophane window…
I look forward to it all week. I look forward to my walk to the corner store, where I note how other people’s gardens are doing in this heat, the wilted alyssum and happy tomatoes, dogs snoozing on doormats in the shade. I look forward to my hand pushing the glass door, the proprietor’s son greeting me with teenage ennui, then the smell of coffee and pastries from the counter up front, cardamom and cayenne from the spice barrels near the wine, the little microclimate of chilled air at the cheese and butter case. I make my way past the shelf stocked with bars of white soap and plastic jugs of cleaner, and the shelf lined with a satisfying array of essential nicknacks — matches, envelopes, votive candles, wax paper, toothpicks.
And then, past the chips and a thousand kinds of bubbly water, I find the donuts. My hand lingers over the display and I consider the glazed variety with their thick lacquer of crusty sweetness, and the powdered sugar variety with their snowy faces turned up like smiles. But all this consideration is just for show, it’s just ritual. I know what I’m going for: rich frosted chocolate, glassy and dark…
