And there is coffee with a doughnut.
It would be hard to want more.
But there have been plenty of times in my life when coffee and a doughnut just led to yearning for something else or finding fault with what I had. Maybe someone was missing or the doughnut was stale or I’d used the last of the Half and Half and had to use powdered creamer, clots of which floated at the surface. Maybe I rued never drinking coffee in Paris or being toasted with champagne for my best-selling book.
Always, something missing A regret lurking or a little lost ache from years before. Not anymore.
I’ve grown out of that. It took until now – 75 years – to get here. Coffee or coffee with a doughnut is plenty fine. The view doesn’t hurt either.