Odd Sort of Day

It's been an odd sort of day.

I went to bed late last night, and woke early.

The last few days I've been sleeping with the crucifix of the rosary I bought in Rome clutched in my hand.

It's been an odd sort of Lent. Full of images of blood and water and wine. Of death and suffering. Of hope and redemption.

I talked with a dear friend for a long time this morning.

I went with two of my youth girls to some of my favorite spots. The farmer's market, and Kensington.

Ran into a friend at the farmer's market. Someone I haven't seen in a while, but would like to connect with in the future.

My favorite restaurant in Kensington is closed. A little hole in the wall place full of atmosphere and cozyness. They served over 60 varieties of sweet and savoury crepes. There's a little sign in the window saying they've been closed "for renovations" since November 26th, and will post further notice of a re-opening date. I peeked through the window. Nothing has changed. I'm not hopeful that there will be a reopening date.

Came home, and chatted on the phone with my mom.

I did a bit of reading, lay for a long time in a hot bath with lavender scented bubbles.

Eventually I'll cook dinner.

The day has been odd - full of connections simmering just under the surface. Things poking at the back of my mind, and making me wonder what exactly it is that I'm missing.