It’s that time of the year again when donuts will soon be everywhere. Those luscious and creamy confections will be in abundance as far as the eye can see. Large boxes, whose mysterious contents are hidden from view, will appear in the schools where I work. Grocery stores will display them with tongs at the ready to plunk into waiting boxes. My mouth waters just thinking about biting into a soft, fresh donut – something that is forbidden to me.
I haven’t had a
donut since last Chanukah, and I’m proud of my year-long hiatus.
Intellectually, I know that eating a donut can make me sick. Psychologically, I
know that eating one donut is like eating one potato chip, and I’ve only met
one person in my entire life who can pull off such a feat. I’m better off not
indulging in any soft and creamy cravings, but it will be hard when I go
grocery shopping and see wall-to-wall donuts. It won’t take much to convince me
that eating them would be a festive thing to do.
I already know that
my caring husband would not want me to eat a donut, which could make me ill,
but I can imagine pushing that thought out of my head as I pick up those shiny
tongs, pluck out two of the largest custard-filled donuts, and carefully put
them into a bakery box. I also know that our shidduch was a match made
in heaven since my husband and I both favor custard-filled donuts with
chocolate frosting on top.
I’ll enjoy every
bite of that confection – in my car outside of the grocery store. I won’t take
a chance of seeing my husband’s frowning face if I show up with my bag of
goodies. I’ll be better off eating one without any watchful eyes nearby and being
rewarded with my husband’s smiling face when I bring him his own fresh dessert.
He never eats donuts, so this will be an unexpected treat for him, too.
But honestly, if
it weren’t Chanukah, I wouldn’t be entertaining the thought of eating a donut
at all. I’ve walked by the bakery section of the grocery store plenty of times
without putting so much as a cookie into my shopping cart. But the minute I see
everyone else loading their carts with donuts, I’ll suddenly have to do it,
too.
What is this
business about looking over my shoulder at what everyone else is doing?
Seriously, I thought I was all grown up by now and that fourth-grade behaviors
were something I didn’t engage in anymore. I remember those behaviors when I
was first studying to be a speech pathologist and people would ask me, “Did you
study for the exam yet?” or “What page are you on in the assigned reading
material?”
It didn’t change
after I got married and had kids, either. Mothers sitting outside shmoozing on
a Shabbos afternoon, saying things like, “Haveng you started cleaning for
Pesach yet?” I learned early on to stay away from those kinds of conversations.
They always made me feel nervous that, somehow, I didn’t quite measure up to
the standards of the crowd. I was better off minding my own business and doing
things at my own pace. I’m not a last-minute kind of person, but neither do I think
it is necessary to start cleaning for Pesach in November.
Still, I find
myself looking over my shoulder in areas other than tending to my sweet tooth –
like vacationing, for instance. I know many people who like to travel. They go
to Eretz Yisrael or to Florida. They talk about a get-away trip to the
Catskills or to Panama. A few years back, we got a credit card with hotel
points thinking we’d travel a bit ourselves. We gave it a good try but lost
interest pretty early on. It took a while, but my husband and I eventually came
to the same conclusion: Going to visit our children and grandchildren was
exactly what we wanted to do, and we weren’t missing out on anything.
As we approach our
eighth year in Baltimore, I’ve come to another decision, one that I never
thought I would. I’ve met a lot of lovely people in this town. Everyone is just
so kind and friendly. People here take the time to stop and say hello, and it’s
a nice feeling. When we first moved here, I wanted to find new friends
immediately. I felt starved for the kinds of friendships I had made in
Cleveland and was determined to find them here. Not only did that not happen so
easily, it didn’t happen at all. And while all of this was going on, my old
friends and I found that our phone calls to one another were becoming more
precious and that our friendships were as strong if not stronger than they ever
were before.
I realize that I’m
fine just as I am, and the desperate need to make friends has diminished. Even
when Shabbos invitations come my way – whereas, once upon a time, I would have
seen them as life preservers to introduce me to potentially new friends – I’ve begun
to understand that it isn’t something I crave anymore. Maybe, once and for all,
I’ve stopped looking over my shoulder at what I might have missed and have started
to see that, kain ayin hara, I have a heaping plateful of goodness right
in front of me, which will, on occasion, include a custard cream donut – or two!
