It’s National Donut Day
And who knew?
Driving back into the city, traffic is light. Linda might like a treat and exit 110 will take me right by West Lime on the way home. Tess Gallagher* and I made good time, we’re early so why not?
Although the line is not out the door, the woman who entered just before me has to press forward. ” Donut day ” she laughs. There is a small boy on a man’s shoulders with the easy comfort of late spring. A blonde at a two-top table with her paper cup set perfect next to her laptop brings to mind a gunslinger. Her typing is a high gear centipede in dried leaves.
The child chewing on a toy reminds me school must be out. That’s why! Except for that paperback I saw in the street, the roads felt very empty for a Friday. Two middle aged women behind me reminisce about the live concert they went to as kids. One remembers the song was acoustic, that he couldn’t hit that high note.
Where the line bends left toward glass case there is sign to the right over the heads of the customers. Written on the sign is ‘ROASTERY’ in three inch white block, to indicate a small bar with two occupied swivel-seats made of wood.
In the corner booth a woman and her son share a chocolate donut. It’s an exuberant joy. I notice that everyone in line is watching them. They notice and the moment breaks.
I grab a beanie cap from a discount display, pull it down over my pointed ears. Two cinnamon cake, two pull-aparts and a raspberry square, oh and a hat. When the order is boxed and called (I gave the name as Linda) the young woman at the counter lights up, hands me the box, says with a thousand watt grin,
“Nice hat Linda, I put an extra donut in there.”
Pushing the door open I notice that the book,
the one in the road, is still there, pages turning.
A thought crosses my mind. That’s my life,
there has to be a poem around here somewhere.
* Tess Gallagher is the name we gave to our car.
