Anyone who really knows me knows that I have a deep affinity towards donuts; the title of this blog serves as a testament to my perpetual cravings. The mere mention of the word elicits only the purest feelings of joy and excitement within me. My friends affectionately trigger this response on an as needed basis, both in times of dismay and comfort alike, exploiting the impact of this 6-letter-word on my spirit just to see me smile.
I know my obsession with donuts is quite silly, really. At least I thought so up until recently. Prior to this blog I never really considered why it had such a profound affect on me, but I know now after a bit of introspection that it’s deeply rooted in my psyche. Whenever I see or smell a donut, I’m immediately taken back to a simpler time, when things like responsibility or accountability were foreign concepts to me. All that I remember loving then, as a kid, are now defining characteristics of my identity: family, video games, martial arts, animals, nature, and of course – donuts. Each of these idiosyncrasies can be traced back to my father in some way, which is no surprise since I love my father beyond words. Whatever he held dear to his heart, I hold dear to mine.
Donuts are important to me because of nostalgia, not gluttony.
Every Saturday morning, my father would wake up at some ungodly hour that I didn’t even know existed until college, just to surprise everyone with a box of donuts. I’ll never forget waking up to my father’s voice, announcing the arrival of breakfast. I recognize now that the donuts were a social catalyst, bringing my whole family together for an hour to literally break bread together. It became an unintentional tradition; Saturdays weren’t really Saturdays in their absence. Their aroma filled our home, their substance filled our stomachs, but above all my father’s kindness filled our hearts. It truly is one of my most fondest childhood memories.
As an adult, I aspire to be like my father. I carry his tradition on to this day. If you find yourself waking up in my abode on a Saturday morning, expect an offering of donuts…and if you start speaking of the fried, fatty confectioneries – expect a deep emotional response from me. Just know that the sentiments I express come not from the sensations of my palate, but rather the nostalgia in my heart.