Younge is the longest street in the world

I made my coffee this morning and then hopped in my supervisor, Barbara's car for my first day at Sick Kids Hospital... walking around all day, I was the in awe American, wanting to dance about all the "free" "free" "free"! and was finally able to dance! with a woman from Africa in her daughter's hospital room, we (she) danced her moves... another moment of reassurance goes a long way, all the way to the hall where a photograph of the CEO was pointed for my look, MARY JO HADDAD, former nurse, CEO of this unbeleivable hospital, this is where I am meant to be. And I knew, my grandmother, Mary Josephine Haddad, knew, this is where I am meant to be... in a hospital with a children's theatre and a project where families are provided life altering surgeries for FREE and people smile and say hello and healthy living is actually promoted in a hospital, can you believe it. and here I sit. finally here. After years of waiting I listen to my opera singing roommate downstairs sing her beautiful melody and watch little boys and big boys run down the street with their toys and the trees blossom outside my window and I have what feels like the world outside my window. that won't open mind you. but it doesn't matter because I can smell my mom's coooking downstairs, fresh basil and tomatos that she purchased from the fruit and vegetable stand down the street in the hub of Greektown, "The Danforth" my neighborhood hot spot. Yesterday Peggy and I stumbled into an all bulk store, endless rows of dried and needing to be boiled and full baralls of all you need and want to walk home with your usable bags (plastic bags cost 5 cents) and chop and eat and leave the remnants in your Toronto city compost bin (picked up once a week). And it's those small, minute, tiny, itty bitty (yes Dad it is a word) things that bring one tiny, itty, bitty person to see that among all this chaos and uncertainty is a patterned quilt of perfection.
Will continue to fill you in, with what is filling me.