The day of graduation means something different for everyone. Some think about their families, their friends, their white dress, the long ceremony, or the bittersweet goodbyes, but I am thinking about the donut I will eat. I have eaten an ungodly amount of donuts the past four years at ETHS, even the past 18 years, and they have all meant something to me, but this will be unlike any other. It’s my last donut in Evanston.
My consumption of donuts is representative of my schedule; it is my marker in time. Since I got my license in the middle of sophomore year, I have had a donut every Friday of school during lunch. The bite of the fresh Bennison’s dough has grown to mean the end of a long week, and the start of a weekend that will go by way too fast. From each Friday to the next, I grew closer to May 17th without notice, but with one more high-calorie donut consumed. I kept wishing for the next time I would be sitting in my car, enjoying a little piece of heaven.
This tradition of donuts didn’t begin with high school Fridays; it started with a little girl exhausted from her first 5k on Thanksgiving, and an original Crispy Kreme sitting right next to the finish line in Akron, Ohio. My uncle picked up a few dozen boxes of the original glazed donuts, and the taste of that first donut was that of accomplishment. I ate six without moving, craving that taste of success and hoping it would never leave me. From that day, I have always eaten at least six donuts every Thanksgiving, and it is no chore or superstition; it’s my reward for getting through the fall and for the 5k, which was once so hard for my little legs, but is now just another run. Those six warm donuts slow me down and remind me to be grateful for the family I am around.
The graduation donut will be my last one with my class and the people I grew up with. But I am guaranteed there will be more donuts to come. My first trip to my future city, Boston, resulted in a very successful soccer ID camp at Northeastern University. My mom needed coffee, and I was in need of a treat, and a jelly donut stood alone, surrounded by fancy pastries. I ordered that donut, and it might’ve been the best donut I have ever had. The jelly was so fresh, and the dough was so moist. I will forever love the Crispy Kreme donuts in Ohio and the old-fashioned donuts at Bennisons, but this jelly donut in Boston was new. It tasted like I was going to end up in Boston and have this donut every Saturday (they only make them on Saturdays). I will always remember the donuts that got me through my childhood, and I will always come back to them, but as uncertain as the future may be, I know there will always be donuts waiting for me.
