Hope is hearing the melody of the future. Faith is to dance to it. ~R. Alves

I missed my bus today. I don't normally take the bus, but because I didn't want to get up at the crack of dawn and get to work four hours early just because my ride had to be at work at 6am, I decided to take the alternative means of transportaion. I haven't ridden the bus for about a year, when at that time I took it quite regularly (so I do know that it takes 15 minutes to walk normally to the bus stop, and 10 minutes if you hustle). I left the house with 15 minutes before the bus would come, and I hustled; I can't explain how I missed it. Perhaps the street I walk down somehow extended during the past few months? Or my legs have become shorter?

It really is the most frustrating feeling to be only 20 seconds away from the bus stop and see it go barreling on by. And it is most frustrating when the next one won't come for another two hours.

But I was grateful that I actually brought my mobile with me, so I rang up the office, told them my predicament, was most thankful that my job is one with extremely flexible hours, and sauntered on into town.

I moseyed my way through the Stray (a 200 acre park in the middle of our town), and I was struck again at the beauty of this little place I live in. Perhaps it was coming back from so much touring and traveling and seeing many new and different towns that allowed me to see my home with fresh eyes. Because it is quite a lovely town, and sometimes I take it's loveliness for granted. There's a reason that this town regularly wins the "Britain in Bloom" contests. There's a reason this town is considered a "spa town." There's a reason why loads of tour buses filled with white haired old ladies enjoy visiting this Victorian town and the surrounded Yorkshire Dales. But to me, it's just home.

Once I made my way to town centre, I made a bee-line to one of my favorite shops, the British Heart Foundation charity bookshop, where I spent at least a half hour pouring over their literature and bargin bin selections, leaving 1.40 GBP poorer but three books richer.

Then I made my way to a nice little cafe, wishing it weren't such an odd time to be too late for breakfast but too early for lunch so I couldn't pop into my favorite little hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop, where they have cheap (but award winning) panninis, bagels, and wraps, and fresh squeezed orange juice. But I made myself content to go to Caffe Nero (vehemently bypassing Starbucks) to have a lovely, rich, large cup of hot chocolate.

And so I sat in this small coffee shop, idly listening to the conversations around me (wondering about the man in the black leather jacket who was telling the waitress about his "record deal" and his band's effort to sell their album in the states...perhaps I should have asked him what band...), scribbling in a notebook that I always carry with me, and of course, browsing through my new (to me) books.

I caught the next bus, still worried about the fact that I was now very late (even though my bosses said they had no problem with it, as I don't have set hours). But I still felt the responsibility of showing up when I said I would.

I realized that perhaps I was meant to miss my bus, because as I got on the later one, I ran into a woman I hadn't seen since three weeks before her baby was due...and now her son will be turning one next month. We had a fantastic conversation during the bus ride, which lightened both our spirits (and I got to see her adorable son...a very handsome baby with the greatest smile).

After we arrived at my stop, I frantically hurried over to the office, catching my bosses just before they closed for lunch. I got my orders for the day, which, in order to make up for my late arrival, I hurriedly scrambled about to do (including toting a very large, very heavy, very old overhead projector across campus...twice). Only to discover that I finished all my assigned tasks within an hour. Brilliant. More time to spend in the computer lab doing my homework (after, of course, I write this blog).

So, perhaps, missing the bus, which seemed at first to intimate the start of a rotten day, was actually the best thing that could have happened...