My “birthday doughnut” has become a favorite ritual. I make the trek to Krispy Kreme, place my order, then sit in the shop eating my original glazed and drinking my small cup of coffee. It’s a simple ritual, I admit.
I don’t remember when it began, nor do I remember what possessed me to start. I only know I’m very boring in my exactitude of steps. I park my car. I walk in. I say – right out loud – “I’m here for my birthday doughnut!” I order. I sit. I devour. I leave.
I like having rituals. Honestly, there aren’t too many I practice. But the few I embrace are dear to me. Maybe it’s the stability, the permanence. I’m not sure. But as I age forward in this world, being rooted to my life is, well, it’s lovely.
I am totally open to new experiences. I am also open to developing new rituals. All this while holding on to some well-worn practices.
I suppose that’s what they call Roots and Wings. I’ll take both.