Being Late...

This morning, I was supposed to catch a train to New Jersey at 7:42. Not surprisingly, even though I took a cab, I didn't get to the station before 8:03.
I was dressed up, which made me happy, and had one hour left before work. So I stopped at a restaurant, and drank some coffee, slowly, taking my time to look around at the people, at the blueberry muffins, at the cappuccinos being rushed to the tables.
While I waited for my buttered toast, I opened the Clarice Lispector's book I usually have in my purse, and read the most insightful little text. I left, took the train and got off at Union Square. Instead of heading straight to work, I strolled around the farmer's market for a few minutes. Flowers, artisanal breads, huge cheeses. Even Jumbo eggs (I grinned a little then: why can't one just use two small eggs?).
Once in my office, I turned on the computer, sent my mom my morning e-mail, saying that everything is fine and have a good weekend. Then I linked to pandora, browsed through my several radios and chose Nina Simone's station. She was genius - as always. "Birds flying high you know how I feel, Sun in the sky you know how I feel, Reeds driftin on by you know how I feel... "
Earlier this morning, while I waited for my buttered toast, I read that "solitary moments of happiness can be so moving."
I wish Lispector was still alive, just so I would have a chance to ask her if even my tiny morning happiness can be, somehow, a little moving too.