A Hunger for the Sweet
copyright@2020 W. Maguire
It's been a year since customers began arriving at Donut City before dawn each morning to buy dozens of donuts. One Monday, the shop sold out at 7:30—hours before its usual 2 p.m. closing time.
That week, regular customers had noticed that something was amiss. Every day for the past 28 years, the inseparable husband-and-wife team — Stella and John—Cambodian refugees, stood together behind the counter. But that month for the first time in decades Stella was absent.
When customers asked, John quietly said she had suffered an aneurysm and had been hospitalized. John could not afford an employee. He could only see his wife after closing . . . or until that day's donut were sold out.
Word spreads fast in a small town and there is still a hunger for sweetness in places where the bitterness is baked in.
So soon friends and neighbors and then even strangers began to line up in the predawn dark, each waiting to order dozens of donut. People bought three, four, five dozen at a time until there was not a single doughnut or croissant or crumb of doubt left on those shelves.
Donut City sold out every day by 7:30 and John the refugee, the immigrant, now an American through and through was able to hold his wife's hand by 8:00.
Perhaps this is just a small and pointless gesture. It is after all just some kneaded dough and sprinkled sugar. People are stricken daily and there is no shortage of broken hearts. Perhaps this is a just another lost cause, trying to buy time with some extraordinary and common sweetness.
But when you have had your fill of the braggers, the loudmouths, the me-firsters . . . when you have come to believe all that is left are the got-miners, the cheaters, or that the truth doesn't really matter anymore . . . or when you feel like someone should send out a search party to find your country—it helps to remember there is an America still willing to stand in the predawn dark to help a refugee. An immigrant. A stranger.
We are generous to a fault. Still.
Like a donut there is a hole in this country, but there is a sweetness surrounding it.
Still.
WLM
What a sweet sentiment! Thanks for sharing this uplifting story.
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