Offering a donut is extending an olive branch. Some time ago I offered a cop a donut. Despite my clear frustrations, and his response, I have to wonder: He still could have said, "Yes," and laughed it off. It is considered as some form of disrespect. Everyone is entitled to their own perspective on the matter. Can anyone laugh? Clearly not, so I'll do it for everyone.
Over this past weekend I've been blessed with two exceptional donut experiences. One from Dunkin and one from Church. Over my brief stint here on Earth, I've discovered that the art of donut making takes much patience and practice. Not anyone can just make a donut. Sure, there's a whole system in place and plenty of people worldwide can make them. It's still a work of art. Such variety. Such a joy and treat. I don't know why anyone wouldn't be happy to be offered a donut. After these few past months, sitting back and chomping into a blueberry donut has proved to be a remedy.
As a child, I do recall leaving church from the base chapel and taking donuts to the security officers at the front gate. Over the years, my cynicism has taken the childlike joy I once had. Instead of delivering donuts to security, I'm using them as slants. No one prepared me for adulthood and how dark things would get. The only way to remedy this is to simply go eat a donut and laugh it off.
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