We all know that Easter is coming. When I was a little girl, Easter was fun because it happened in spring–which meant that the long ghastly winter was on the wane–and usually involved a great new fluffy pastel dress and matching shoes. Sometimes even a hat (or a bonnet?) and gloves were involved. One year I got pale blue patent leather shoes and I loved them so much, I can still remember them!
At this point in life, Easter doesn’t mean much to me. No holiday does, for that matter. Ennui, I suppose.
But Easter is a Really Big Deal in Italy. Really Big.
I came home one day recently to find this notice on the door of my building. It tells me that tomorrow, on Tuesday, 20 February, between 4 and 8 p.m., the parish priest will come to my building to give the blessing to anyone who wants to receive it, in advance of Pasquale.
I mean really, the priest comes to my apartment to bless me? I would love to be a party to that!
I may or may not be able to be home for this blessing. I have already rsvp-ed to an invitation to visit Michelangelo’s tomb in Santa Croce with the art restorer who recently finished cleaning the monument and I would hate to miss it. But, I also hate to miss the blessing.
Decisions, decisions! And both are such exquisite offerings only to be found here, in Florence!