one of my all time favorite spots is just off the blue line, tucked behind the capitol. it hugs both affluent and impoverished neighborhoods. washingtonians flock there on saturday mornings. patiently waiting in lines that wrap around the brick building with tall green doors. once inside, smells of fish, pastries and french toast drift through the air. focusing on the chalk board i would re-read the specials even though they were already committed to memory. each time the dilemma between the french toast and the brick. katharine would be sure to get extra crispy bacon.i’d convince someone to share potatoes with me, but i’d usually eat them all. nancy preferred orange juice but i’d drink my coke at 9 in the morning. kari would claim our spot on the stools and we’d eat in the crowded spot and enjoy every minute. without fail we would run in to at least one group of friends.outside in the sunshine on full stomachs we’d admire urban jewelry, jazz-infused art work and table after table of colorful fruit. the fragrant flowers would tease me as i walked past, begging me to turn and admire. across the street through the chain link fence trunks, benches, mirrors and odds and ends.
this morning hot flames licked their way through iconic easternmarket, leaving it wounded and broken. mayor fenty, understanding its worth despite the destruction, promised to restore what had been lost in the ashes.