Growing up with a baker for a dad means you get to see a lot of bakeries and donut shops. When I was a kid I hung out at this place all the time. Tom — one of the T’s in T&T — would give me whatever I wanted. Heaven for a kid! Plus, I got to see donuts being made, which is pretty much magic at that age. I hadn’t been back to my hometown since I moved out west, almost fourteen years ago.
I dropped my mom off for a doctor’s appointment and decided to drive by some of my old haunts. My elementary school, William Armstrong PS, has far fewer portables then when I was there. My high school, Markham District High, is being completely replaced right next door to the school I spent five years just doing my best to get out of. Then I thought I needed a coffee and decided to drop by the old donut shop. It hasn’t changed too much since I last saw it, but one thing definitely has: no more donuts. I’m fairly certain it’s one of the seven signs of the apocalypse. So, it was with a heavy heart I decided on a butter tart instead, along with the coffee. A few minutes before the lunch crowd started, I snapped a shot of the front door, finished my treats and wandered out.
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