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I remember driving with my Father to Dunkin’ Donuts on a sunny Saturday.
The sky was more blue then when you are 6
or maybe 7.
We picked out pairs of donuts.
Sprinkled, glazed, iced.
Our family of 5 would divide them shortly.
Around 11-ish. Weekend hours.
I remember it was an event. .25 each roughly.
With a glass of milk. And another one please.
Later it was American Bandstand. 11:30-12:00 or so.
East coast and
American hours.
We had a babysitter
Maybe a handful of times.
Then, there would be 3 frozen dinners complete with green peas and carrots
and a chocolate brownie.
That 1 brownie makes up for nothing I wanted to tell someone.
The best thing about it was the idea.
Compartmentalized dinners in a silver tray with dessert on the same plane. In the same place. Waiting.
It was freedom.
It was Saturday night.
Mom was getting ready.
Then it was
The bathroom, the closet, and the rotary phone on the dresser
Like a regular lady.
Counting the hours.
It would be fine.

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