A couple of times a year, my beloved and I visit friends in North Carolina. We don’t do anything really exciting, just rest and eat.
We have the trip down to a science. On our way south, we hit a drive-thru in Pikeville, trying to cut minutes off our travel time. We stop at the same places to get a snack and use the restroom. (Before I turned 50 I didn’t have to stop so much!) In Abingdon, we always hit the same BP for a pit stop. I know exactly where we are and exactly how much time is left on our journey. On our way back, every single time, we stop at a Flying J in Wytheville.
Each time we break, my beloved says those three short words that make my heart skip: ”Want a snack?” Though you wouldn’t know it by looking at me, I consider the calories of everything that passes through my lips. Oh, I do want a snack, for sure, but I try to find something that won’t make me feel guilty or any heavier. I rarely get what I really want, opting for a healthier treat, which means it’s not a “bear claw”.
Just inside the Flying J, I mean right when you walk in the door and nearly trip over it, there is a display of heavenly delights. The Cinnabon sign glows with brightness that rivals the sun. The goodies call my name though I’m not from there. I smell the warm cinnamon and melt a little right in front of the display. (Cinnamon rolls are my favorite!) I look at the delicious morsels laid out in front of everyone, oh I look, but I never partake. My beloved sees the longing in my eyes and always asks if I want one. Oh, yes, I want one! I don’t say out loud. But I never get one, thinking of the calories and my constantly growing hips.
Last week, we took a different route to NC and stopped at the Flying J on the way down! They were there…waiting. And they recognized me from before, calling my name once again. As always, my beloved asked, “Do you want something from Cinnabon?” he asked with a big smile. And this time…this day, I said, “Yes!”
I stood right before the display of heavenly delights taking my time to make my choice. There were small pieces of delicious cinnamon rolls called “From the Center”. They had caramel stuff drizzled all over them. Then there was the “Cinnamon Pecan Roll” with pecans and caramel stuff drizzled all over them. Finally, they had the “Classic Roll”, which was a sweet and tender cinnamon roll covered with some type of white icing. I’m not an icing lover but I’m not a hater, either. (I figured I would just cut that off.) Three people asked if I needed something from the display case. (They were enablers.) After several minutes, not one of which was trying determine calories, I chose The Classic Roll.
This was such a momentous occasion I felt like I needed to tell my new best friend-the clerk, that I’d never had anything from Cinnabon before and that I’d wanted one for years but never had one. He was shocked-or maybe a little scared, because I was talking so fast. “Then you are definitely in for a treat!” he said as he gave me my little box of heaven.
In the car, I thought I heard angel music as I opened my very first and very own Classic Roll from Cinnabon, most delicious bakers of the world. It was as wide as my hand spread out-from the tip of my thumb to the tip of my pinkie. (I measured it because it was so humongous.) The white stuff on top wasn’t icing. It was a blanket of cream cheese deliciousness! It was absolutely one of the most awesome things I’ve ever tasted and I’ve tasted a lot! My phone dinged because I got a text but I couldn’t get it. I had cream cheese and cinnamon bun on every finger, both thumbs, my shirt and capris.
I always thank the Lord for my food before I eat. This time I thanked Him again after I ate! Holy Smokes!
For the record, I only ate half of my Classic Roll and tucked the other half back in the box for an emergency.
The emergency came right after supper.
Dawn Reed is a columnist for The Floyd County Times.