Plenty of people say the first bite of anything is often the best. I disagree. Sometimes it takes a few bites to get to the best tasting part. Take, for instance, the jelly donut. The memories of happy times spent with my mother flood back whenever I eat a Dunkin' Donuts jelly donut.
Our Dunkin’ Donuts memories began in 1972.
Mommy and I would hop in the car and drive three miles to the donut shop, just to share time together. The first time we began this girl time ritual, she was thirty-one years old and our last time she was seventy-seven years old.
“I will have a medium coffee with light milk and sweet-n-low and one cruller for here. And to go, I will have two boston creams, one glazed and one chocolate.”
We were bringing home the other donuts for my siblings and dad. But this time was just ours.
“Michelle, are you having a jelly donut?”
My eyes became wide with delight and I shook my head yes. I must have looked like a bobble-head bobbing my head up and down with excitement. This time with Mommy was so special. She focused on just us, on me. No arguments from siblings. No chaos in the house. It was me she focused on and loved. She wanted to share her time and her donut with me. That made me feel so special.
She was everything in my life. I wanted to grow up to be as beautiful, smart, and witty as her. She made our clothes and often we twinned. She was my world. I was seven years old and she was everything to me.
“Yes please. Yes.”
Mommy chose a French Cruller which was more simple and airy than my jelly donut. It takes a complex pallet to enjoy the delectableness of the sugary sweetness and varying textures. I watched as she snipped off dainty pieces of the cruller and dipped each piece into her milky brown coffee.
“Eat your donut slowly and enjoy it.” She encouraged.
I wondered when she said “eat your donut slowly” if it was because she needed time away from the house as much as I did. I listened to her and ate slowly, which meant more time alone with Mommy.
The first bite was hardly the best. I patiently waited for the best bite. Almost melting in my mouth, the first bite rested on my tongue as the flavors dissolved into me. I held this in my mouth, not wanting to chew. The moment I began chewing, I knew the piece would vanish soon, which meant we were closer to ending our time together.
I tested my patience and ability to wait by taking a smaller second bite, not wanting to get to the center yet. I yearned for more time with Mommy in that moment. If I finished my donut, we would leave this place. Sharing would end. Love would change. For now, she continued to dunk, and I kept on eating slowly as she suggested.
“Do you want to dunk your donut into my coffee?”
An invitation from mommy felt prestigious. Sharing anything with her is all I wanted. We are sharing it all then. Breaking a piece off of my donut, I dunk it into Mommy’s coffee.
“Thank you.” The coffee donut plops in my mouth and I close my eyes to enjoy all the sensations. Mommy loves me. This is love. I don’t want this to end.
“Are you okay Michelle?”
Opening my eyes, I pressed the mushy gob up against the roof of my mouth and swallowed it. “Yes. I was just enjoying the coffee donut. Thank you.”
Looking at my jelly donut, I am almost at the center. Almost at the best part.
“Mommy, would you like to bite my jelly donut? It’s just at the jelly part.”
“Thank you, sweetheart, you are a very good sharer. I would love a small bite.”
The second or third bite is more satisfying than the first. The one where the jelly oozes out and drips down your chin or onto your shirt. Maybe you send your tongue out long, catching the drippy jelly, not wanting to miss a single lick. The donut's magic is in its center.
Mommy takes a tiny bite, releasing just a small part of the jelly and saving most of it for me. The jelly oozes out and her manicured finger catches it. My eyes fix on Mommy’s jelly covered nail as she delicately brings it to her lips and licks it away, wasting none of it. At this moment, she transforms from mommy to a little girl. She lets me witness a childlike essence that is full of pure joy and playfulness. A wide smile dances across her face. I wish I knew the memories inside of her that were sparked by this taste. Jelly donuts have a way of eliciting fun and playfulness while eating.
This is how I imagined her when the jelly dripped on her nails and moved to her lips.
Dunkin’ Donuts was a constant in our lives. Many things changed in our lives, but that stayed. My brother died. My sister and I moved away. Our kids grew up and apart. My father died. Mommy got cancer. My perspective of the past shifted, and she and I became closer. Dunkin’ Donuts was always present. Many faces changed, but not the comfort we felt. Dunkin’ Donuts remained there while much of our lives went through difficulties and shifts. It was like returning to a favorite blanket. Many times it was a donut and cup of coffee that would bring us together.
After living three thousand miles away for much of my adult life, I moved closer to my mother after her cancer diagnosis. Now I was a mere five hundred miles away and surprised her with visits.
I always enjoyed surprising my mother.
I called from the car during a typical time for us to talk and timed it this way so she would not know my whereabouts.
“Mommy, I wish we could sit down and have lunch. It’s so frustrating being far from you.”
“I wish you were here, too honey.”
“If I were there, we could meet at the diner and then go for a donut.”
“Mi—chelle. Are. you. here?”
Afraid to get excited, she speaks slowly, extending each syllable.. Her voice changed to a higher pitch. The way it did when she knew I was up to something.
“What gives you that idea?” I said in a sing song voice.
Pulling into the driveway I sing...
“Come out. Come out. Wherever you are?”
This was the way I often greeted her on my surprise visits.
Mommy came out wearing a pink button down, white jeans and white platform heels. The prettiest thing she wore was her beautiful smile.
“I knew you were here! I knew it! How long are you staying?”
“As long as you want me. Hop in the car and let’s go get coffee and donuts.”
We sat together in Dunkin’ Donuts as we always did in the past. She with her French Cruller and coffee and me with my jelly donut. This time I had my own coffee to dunk into. This time there was no one to bring any donuts home to. Mommy was alone in the five-bedroom house where we all used to live. I felt such sadness thinking of her walking around this cold and lonely house with the ghosts of my father and brother. She often said she had the most wonderful life. But life was painful for her. She had to learn to let go of this person or that person. She learned to live with disappointment and illness. No matter how independent she claimed to be, she still wanted family around. We were all scattered. There was so much change in her life.
That last time we had coffee and donuts together was our last time. She died in July 1, 2020. My last visit was June 26, 2019 just before Covid lockdown.
This was taken around 2010.
I’m over new beginnings.
I’ve had too much loss. Too many hardships. I know the pain my mother suffered and feel intensely close to her. I guess that’s why, for the past few days, I have been wanting a jelly donut. When I think of them, I think of her.
Maybe it’s not about getting to the center or experiencing the ooey gooey part. Maybe it’s about who you share life with. The yummy parts and the messy ones too.
I think I am going to eat a jelly donut today and remember how loved I was by my mother. Maybe the jelly will fall on my chin and my finger will find it. When my finger puts the jelly to my lips, a coy smile will appear upon my face, and I will remember the moments and the love between me and my mother. Sometimes love happens in the smallest moments of life.
This was Mommy toward the end. I will always remember that beautiful resilient smile. No matter how old she got, she played, laughed and loved. Thank you for the memories Mommy. I love you.
"Eat your donut slowly and enjoy it" is what she said and I will do just that.
I am enjoying all the bites of life now, every ooey gooey bit. I love you. :)
I know how real this story is. I was married to Michelle (aka Chellie) back in the stone age. I knew her parents very well. I can say very truthfully that Michelle's mom was an awesome and loving woman. She continued to love and care for me long after I was no longer married to her daughter, and I loved her. I teared up while reading this story, as I could see it so clearly in my mind! May she rest in peace!
As difficult and challenging as life is, it is always a joy remembering the sweet and gooey moments. Thank you for this precious reminder 🙏🏻