The Cinnamon Bun, the White Buffalo, and Turning Around

A Joy Quest story about what happens when you stop long enough to look

Earlier this week, my husband had to go to RedDeer for a minor surgery.

Not exactly the beginning of an adventure.

But I’ve been trying to look at ordinary days differently lately.

One of the things I’m learning through my Joy Quest is that I don’t necessarily need to plan an entire day around finding joy. Sometimes I can look at a day that’s already happening and ask:

Is there something here I might enjoy?

So while we were in Red Deer, I decided we might as well add a small Joy Quest.

Breakfast.

More specifically, a cinnamon bun.

The Cinnamon Bun Situation

We went to Glen’s Restaurant for breakfast, somewhere I’d heard had very good cinnamon buns.

I wasn’t prepared for the size of them.

Calling these things cinnamon buns feels inadequate.

It was about the size of my hand with my fingers spread wide and probably three inches thick.

We bought two.

For four people.

That’s how big they were.

They gave them to us frozen to take home, so the actual cinnamon bun experiment had to wait until that evening.

After dinner, we warmed them up and cut each one in half.

They were gooey.

Very cinnamony.

And completely ridiculous in the best possible way.

Another cinnamon bun officially added to my completely unofficial search for the best one.

But strangely enough, the cinnamon bun wasn’t my favourite part of the day.

That happened on the drive home.

Wait. Were Those Buffalo?

We were driving along when I noticed what I thought was a herd of cattle and buffalo in a field.

There were dark animals and white ones.

At first, my brain made the obvious assumption.

Buffalo.

White cows.

We kept driving.

But something about what I’d seen didn’t quite make sense.

I looked again as we passed.

Those didn’t look like cows.

They looked like…

white buffalo?

We continued down the road for a few minutes until we reached a roundabout.

And then I had a decision to make.

Keep going home.

Or turn around.

There was absolutely no practical reason to go back.

We had somewhere to be eventually.

I’d already seen them.

I had other things I could do when I got home.

All the little arguments my brain is exceptionally good at producing.

But another thought was louder.

I want to see them.

So we went around the roundabout and headed straight back the way we’d come.

I Wanted a Closer Look

We pulled safely off the road near the farm and sat there for a while.

And they really were white buffalo.

I took pictures.

I took videos.

Mostly, though, we just looked at them.

White buffalo are extraordinarily rare, which made the sight feel even more remarkable.*

But I think I would have been fascinated even if they weren’t.

Because we almost missed them.

Not because they were hidden.

Because we were going somewhere else.

That’s something I’m starting to notice about joy.

It can be remarkably inconvenient.

It doesn’t always appear at the destination.

Sometimes it shows up beside the road when you’re already driving past it.

And then you have to decide whether you’re willing to turn around.

The Old Me Probably Would Have Kept Driving

I’ve been thinking about that little decision ever since.

Turning around doesn’t sound significant.

It probably isn’t to most people.

But I’m beginning to understand that my Joy Quest isn’t going to be made up entirely of big adventures.

Actually, I don’t think it’s going to be made up of many big adventures at all.

It’s these moments.

Let’s try the cinnamon bun.

Let’s take the long way.

Let’s stop here.

Let’s see where that road goes.

Wait. What was that?

Let’s go back.

For most of my life, practicality usually won.

There needed to be a reason.

A purpose.

A destination.

Something productive at the end.

I’m still like that.

Probably more than I’d like to admit.

But I’m beginning to interrupt it.

That afternoon, curiosity won.

And because it did, we spent a little while standing beside a road admiring something none of us expected to see that day.

Maybe This Is What I’m Looking For

On the rest of the drive home, we talked about the buffalo.

We talked about breakfast.

We talked about what a surprisingly good day it had been.

And I realized something.

This is exactly what I hoped the Joy Quest would become.

I’m not trying to manufacture a spectacular life.

I’m trying to stop missing the one I’m already in.

Some days that might mean driving somewhere I’ve never been.

Other days it might mean fishing, sitting beside a river, or searching for an unnecessarily large cinnamon bun.

And sometimes it might simply mean noticing something unusual through the window and saying:

Turn around.

Because maybe joy isn’t always waiting somewhere ahead of us.

Sometimes we’ve already driven past it.

And we’re allowed to go back.

Joy Quest Note

I thought this Joy Quest was going to be about finding another cinnamon bun. Instead, my favourite part of the day happened beside the road, simply because I decided I wanted to turn around and look.