The thing about the drive between Amarillo and Dallas is that it's boring. It may seem quaint and charming to road trip across Texas and pass through all the small towns, but it's really not. It's flat, there's nothing to see, and the towns are made mostly of dust and tumbleweeds. For me, since John likes to do the driving now, the best thing about drive to Amarillo and back are the naps.
Several years ago, I actually stayed awake all the way back home after a visit to Amarillo. John and I talked about everything: the visit, his parents, nostalgia, what we love about Dallas, music, life, whatever...and then somehow we got onto donuts. Donuts! How great they are. How much we'd like to have a donut right now. How great it would be if there was a 24-hour donut shop in the middle of nowhere on 287 on a Sunday. Wouldn't that just be the best? Man, donuts would be so great right now. What a bummer we don't have any donuts.*
Eventually we made it home. We opened the trunk and started pulling our stuff out to take inside, and there, under a pillow...was a box of donuts. A box we did not put there. We stared at each other in disbelief and amazement, and then we ate some donuts because that's just what you do when magic trunk donuts appear at the end of a road trip. Huzzah!
This felt like a revelation and so I've told the story many times since. It's turned into a parable for me. The lesson? What we need is usually nearby if we're just open to finding it. Look around. Pay attention. I've found it to be true many times since. Spirituality in the form of a donut. It seems important to mention I was actually not a dietitian yet.
Now for some real talk: My sister-in-law has triplets. They're 18 now, but at the time they were still children. With three small children, it is mandatory to own a minivan, which we borrowed to take the kids to do some fun aunt and uncle thing while we were in town. Meanwhile my sister-in-law had our car, which she took grocery shopping. It's a safe guess that she bought donuts and left them behind by mistake. Maybe we even started thinking about donuts because we could smell them, but not enough to notice consciously. Maybe my nephews were later blamed for the missing donuts, but we never brought it up to find out. Because donuts.
There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for where the donuts came from, but that doesn't really matter. In fact, for me it makes the story better. Donuts weren't magicked into our trunk; they were there all along. Our answers are too, but first we have to want them, then we have to pay attention and look for them. Otherwise they're just going stale in your trunk, unused and forgotten.
I really like donuts.
*I promise we were not high. We are like this quite naturally.