Now that I make a word analyze in English donut kind of sound like “do not” . Anyway! My friends know that my morning isn’t really started if I don’t eat something so here it is a story about me , a donut and a funeral.
It was a summer morning. A relative of mine had died . I put on my black dress and I went to the church to meet with the family , see the dead body (in Romania there is always an open coffin ) and light a candle for her soul. I didn’t get the chance to eat yet so when I got there I told my aunt that before we will take her (the dead relative) to the cemetery I need to run to the market (which was close to church) to get a donut and a coffee. So I did! The donuts in Romania are a bit different from the ones in US. The taste and the texture I mean. I got a fresh hot donut covered in lots of powder vanilla sugar and a coffee. I was so happy! The donut in one hand and the coffee in my other hand. As I was returning to the church I couldn’t keep on staring to that donut. I wanted a bite so bad and I didn’t want to wait until I got to the church. Finally just few steps away from church I didn’t resisted and I intended to take a bite but right at that moment a wind breeze came and spread that delicious vanilla powder sugar all over my face and my black dress. All powdery I was looking around to make sure nobody saw what happened. There was no one on the street fortunately. I had no place to sit the coffee or the donut to clean myself so I entered the church as fast as I could all covered in powder sugar. Even though it was embarrassing I wanted to laugh so bad but I was at a funeral. Everybody came to ask me what happened and helped me clean myself. I was not patient! Here, take this! How do you like your donut now? Said karma when she brought that wind. As the earlier embarrassment wasn’t enough while I was waiting in the church’s yard for the people to come out with the coffin to go to the cemetery the same evil wind breeze got under my dress and lift it up (Marilyn Monroe style ) . At that moment I was desperately trying to cover what I could. Unfortunately this time I was not alone!
Guess who else was in the yard staring at me? The priest’s direct helper.
photo source: http://www.acasa.ro