The Doughnut Shop

This was an observation writing assignment from my creative writing class in 2003.


My car is large.
People know it in this town.
It occurs to me to worry a bit as I pull into the towns
biggest and best doughnut shop.
But I plow ahead in order to "observe".
I open the door to be greeted by the aroma of
rich smelling coffee and sweet maple syrup.
I am lifted swiftly back to mornings at summer camp or
Saturdays at home with the family eating pancakes or french toast.
This aroma having such close association to pleasant things is a
wicked and two edged sword.
I sit here in a sort of memoriam for a habit long ago crucified;
The one that tried to kill me with kindness
as I fed myself false kisses of sweet glaze and creamy chocolate.
Still I forge ahead on this mission and
I find myself a seat with decaf in hand.
I am so charmed by blue ruffled curtains on the windows that frame the streets outside which are lined with huge puffy trees so intensely green they cast a hue on all things under them.
There is so much noise as this little shop is hopping.
A woman directly across the way is staring at me.
She is weathered and heavy with big false teeth and big false grin.
I am a curiosity, a newcomer to those who are regulars here.
And there are a few regulars.
This makes itself clear by the complaint I hear behind me from a large group of elderly folks saying "Where are all the regulars this morning?"
I feel like apologizing and leaving because I am not familiar to them.
As I watch the steady stream of customers trail in and out
I notice that most are overweight.
The ones who are brave stay and read the paper.
Most get their sales over quickly either from hurry
or self-consciousness, I surmise.
Interesting, there is rarely a sale of just one doughnut.
I suspect that no one can eat just one.
A large group of kids come for last minute feedings before school.
Two young kids looking like brother and sister sit eating in silence and
I wonder if mom and dad sent them off with a five dollar bill.
The very young and the very old are here at the doughnut shop at the same time.
Oldsters are early birds...
Youngsters are too.
What a contrast.
But now the children go to school and the faces and bodies morph to middle age.
One lady I observe is someone that I know from a local karaoke joint.
I know she has an eating disorder and I become sleuth to satisfy my curiosity
about the number of doughnuts she buys.
She purchased half a dozen.
Will she share or will she purge?
The place is quieting down now.
Quieter still because the deaf couple in the corner make no noise
as they speak to one another with waves of the hand and shaping of fingers.
I grin serenely as I enjoy the love passing between these two.
I pick up my books and walk over to the cashier to throw down my last ten cents
for the refill.
As I leave, I carry with me the vision of two old people enjoying their life
and moments in the doughnut shop eating and sharing.
I picture myself at the end of my youth
approaching the door of that same doughnut shop.......
But first I must lay down my cross; walk in unburdened; free at last,
Then, I will eat doughnuts........