I woke up early today. Couldn’t sleep. Like, 3 am early.
The good news is that I met the sunrise, the red round ball that looks almost out of place coming out of nowhere, enlightening the world.
I put on my good jeans and my lilac hoodie that I don’t get to wear often, my lo ve shoes, and my favourite green jacket. It was just right for the 6:30 am weather but of course became much by the time I came home. I still love the outfit. The contrast of baby lilac and deep forest green.
I also did my routine of teeth-hair-face: brush-brush-moisturize. And I was ready to go. But not before looking for a place that is open at 7 am. Be it because of COVID-19 or maybe it was so forever, very few places are open at 7. Mostly at 8, a rare one at 7:30. But I am not too worried as I am certain the city has plenty as is. And for the days when I wake up later 8 am open times abound. So, all is good.
As I left home, there it was, the tree, in full bloom. Oh, I love spring. Spring is just so beautiful. On my way I also saw the magnolia with the yellow blooms. Yellow blooms! So cool. they’re a soft, custard yellow, not needing to impress anyone. Just blooming there and their presence is enough.
The place I chose is on Dovercourt and Ossington, called Crosscut Coffee
1142 Davenport Rd, Toronto, ON M6G 2C6
https://www.instagram.com/crosscutcoffee/
https://crosscutcoffee.ca/
OPEN HOURS
MON-FRI: 7AM-5:30PM.
SAT-SUN: 9AM-5PM
As it was so early I couldn’t get away with taking pictures without being seen, so I asked for permission.
“Sure…but…why?”
I stumbled here. “For my own…little..blog” lol I mean, I didn’t lie. This IS a blog. A day old blog.
With the awkwardness and stumbling I forgot to ask for very little water in my americano, so I got a full blown coffee size americano. It tasted okay, but not what I need or want or like. And of course, I wasn’t about to ask for a re-make. So, I took it. And so, I need to come back and give it a fair try.
But this is not about coffee really, is it? It is about the journey, and the destination, and the journey back.
I did a test with myself asking myself whether I would take a fully paid house with a full garden – large as I need with orchards and all – in Toronto but would have to abandon my dreams of the other. And the answer is no. I even tried to coerce myself into a possibility of saying yes, and there is no possibility of saying yes. The best I can do is to do 3 months in Toronto in this house. 3 months a year is the absolute max. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. And I will.
On my way back I took a small street down, Somerset. It ended at one of my favourite streets, Geary. It is a weird industrial street that is gentrifying in a peculiar way. On the one hand it remade some garages into cool loft style breweries and restaurants to attract the music scene people that also practice on Geary in the music studio remade garages. This in turn attracts local colour. But on the other side are the blue colar workers from the actual industrial area that also like to hang out after work, so there are eateries catered to a mix of demographics.
Anyway, I am home now. Undercoffeed but happy. On my walk I remembered that I can have something else. I can have another life, a better life, a life that is better suited to my soul.
It is the one with the yellow stripes 