“Home” Hits Different After 32 Hours of no sleep and being stuck at JFK

“Thirty-two hours, one sleepless night at JFK, and a surprise serenade by Michael Bublé later… I’m reminded that home isn’t just a place—it’s peace, perspective, and believing that love will find me right on time.”

Y’all.

After two magical weeks of solo adventuring through London and Paris—art, history, trains, cobblestone streets, croissants (so many croissants), and even the Crazy Horse cabaret—I’m finally headed home. But not without one last plot twist, brought to you by JFK International.

Let me set the scene:

I landed back in the U.S. full of espresso, memories, and an I’ve got this attitude… only to find myself stuck overnight at the airport with no flight until 9:50 AM Sunday morning. Cue the chaos: rebooking confusion, terminal ping-pong, the full-on party scene at the TWA Hotel where I had a failed attempt to secure a room. As for sleep? Let’s just say we’re well past the 30-hour mark.

Funny thing is—I wasn’t nervous wandering the streets of London or hopping metros in Paris. But JFK overnight? That gave Eurostar strike energy with a side of Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. I was too scared to leave the airport too, so I just waited.

I scoped out snack options. Debated curling up under a departure board like Tom Hanks in The Terminal. And leaned into people-watching like it was my new profession.

And just now, as I sit at my gate—eyelids drooping but spirit still lifted—Home by Michael Bublé starts playing.

I couldn’t help but smile.

Because of course it did.

That song has always pulled at my heart, but today? It felt written for me.

“Maybe surrounded by a million people, I still feel all alone…”

Yes, Michael. I feel that.

And yet? “I wanna go home” has never sounded more hopeful.

As if the universe wasn’t finished having a little fun, my playlist followed it up with Norah Jones’s Turn Me On. Because why wouldn’t it?

Here’s the thing—I am going home.

To my cozy little space in Mt. Pleasant.

To my people. To my warm cup of tea and my lovely little life.

Everything else—the delays, the drama, the aching feet, the chorus of strangers coughing at Gate B—is just background noise.

Am I a little sad to be going home alone? Sure. I’m human.

But I’m also full of life, love, and belief that someone truly wonderful will walk into my world when I least expect it. Maybe he’ll love airports and almond croissants and slow walks by the water. Maybe he’ll see me the way I’ve learned to see myself—strong, joyful, and open-hearted.

For now, I’m taking the long way home, grateful for every ridiculous twist and beautiful detour. I’ve got stories to tell, sore arms from hauling my carry-on, and a soul that feels like it just lived a whole new chapter.

So here’s to airports. To Michael Bublé. To kind strangers and unexpected reminders that life doesn’t always go according to plan—but sometimes, that’s when the best stories unfold.

And now? It’s back to writing about health and happiness and all the simple things I love most. Back to real life for this girl—with a few new freckles, a lot of memories, and a heart wide open for whatever’s next.

With love from Gate B (and one last cappuccino in hand),

🍯 Honey