Where in the World is Dakota?

💬 Intro: Every fairytale must end — but not all endings close the book. Some simply turn the page. As I packed my bags and said goodbye to Scotland, I realized the journey was never really about the castles or the cobblestones. It was about grace — the kind that travels with you, whispering that the Author of your story is still at work, even when you’re somewhere between flights. 🌤️📜

☀️ A Final Morning in Scotland

After waking up, packing my last few belongings, and stepping outside one final morning, I was greeted by soft clouds scattered across a pale, baby-blue sky, with the fortress of Edinburgh Castle rising proudly into view. 🏰 It felt like the city itself was offering a quiet farewell — majestic, calm, and beautifully still.

I had left with plenty of time to wander the streets one last time before catching the bus to the airport and heading through security. Once there, I grabbed a quick (and delicious) breakfast sandwich and coffee from Costa Coffee — highly recommended! ☕🥪 The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the hum of gentle conversation, creating the kind of quiet, contented, unhurried morning that felt like a soft goodbye.

Little did I know, my calm Scottish send-off was about to turn into Airport Adventures: The Sequel. ✈️

✈️ Airport Adventures: The Sequel Nobody Asked For

Belly full and spirits high, I wandered over to my gate, opened my Kindle, and settled in to wait for boarding to begin. My phone buzzed with updates — a small ten-minute delay, groups beginning to board — all perfectly matching the announcements over the loudspeaker. Everything was smooth, organized, and calm.

When my group was called, I stood, collected my things, and walked confidently toward the gate. The attendant scanned my ticket — and the screen flashed red. Hmm. We tried again. Red. She looked down at my ticket, then back up at me with the kind of calm politeness that always means something’s wrong.
“This is the flight to Frankfurt,” she said gently.
I blinked. “Right… except I’m supposed to be going to Brussels.”

Cue the plot twist. 🎬

My flight was, in fact, not in the same area. Oh no. That would’ve been far too easy.

And just like that, the calm, peaceful morning had turned into the all too familiar airport rush. I grabbed my bag, double-checked my ticket (three times, for good measure), and started power-walking across the terminal like I was auditioning for a travel montage.

My phone buzzed again — my actual flight was now boarding… somewhere else in the airport.
Of course it was.

I started moving fast, weaving through travelers like I was training for an Olympic event. Somewhere between gates I laughed out loud — every airport seems determined to remind me that cardio isn’t optional. Who needs a gym membership when international terminals keep testing my endurance between boarding calls? Thankfully, it wasn’t quite as dramatic this time. No desperate final calls or heart-pounding finishes — just me, long legs and rolling suitcase in sync, power-walking like a woman on a mission (and mildly caffeinated courage).

Walking up to the plane, I paused for one last look — the hills in the distance, the clouds rolling low, the kind of light that only exists in Scotland. I drew in a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs, memorizing the scent of rain, history, and adventure. This was it — my final breath of Scottish air before returning to the skies.

🥐 Transit Tales

Once I arrived in Brussels, I had just enough time to use the restroom, grab a snack, and make my way (correctly!) to my next gate. Don’t worry — I checked every departure board along the way and triple-checked my boarding pass this time. 😅 Lesson learned! The connection from Brussels to Milan went smoothly — quick, calm, and blessedly free of cardio. Layover officially conquered. ✈️🥐

💭 Reflections Above the Clouds

As the plane climbed higher, thoughts of Scotland stretched behind me — a patchwork of memory and story, stitched together with rain and sunlight. Each moment I carried with me like a thread of grace: the laughter of strangers, the echo of footsteps on cobblestones, the scent of warm pastries and earth after rain, the wind whispering through castle ruins. None of it felt random. Every breath, every detour, every gust of wind felt divinely placed — the gentle artistry of a Creator reminding me that He had been writing beside me all along.

Somewhere between Edinburgh’s misty mornings and the quiet hum of the engines, I realized this journey had never truly been about travel. It was about remembrance — a gentle rediscovering of the woman God created me to be before the world told me who I should become. In every sunrise and storm, in every pause and detour, He had been there — shaping, refining, softening, and strengthening me in ways I didn’t yet understand.

Outside my window, the clouds glowed with a holy kind of light — soft, endless, and alive with promise. I saw His fingerprints in everything — in the strangers who offered kindness, in the wind that seemed to dance with purpose, in the laughter that healed something I hadn’t known was broken. Looking out at the glowing horizon, I felt the still, certain truth that I was never walking alone. Every step through that land of stone and story had been guided by the One who writes the greatest tales of all.

Maybe that’s what adventure truly is: not the escape from real life, but the reminder of how beautiful it can be when you choose to live it fully.
I learned to laugh through chaos, and find wonder even when plans fell apart — because grace was there too, quietly holding everything together.

Scotland had given me stories, but more than that, it had reminded me how to believe in them again — and in myself.

Travel, I realized, isn’t just about discovering the world — it’s about rediscovering the One who made it, and the purpose He breathed into you long before you began to chase it; to see the beauty of the life He’s still unfolding within you. 🌍🙏

As the horizon blurred into gold, I smiled — a quiet, grateful smile that carried the weight of wonder. The story wasn’t ending here; it was only turning the page. God was still writing, and I was still becoming — one prayer, one breath, one beautiful, unfolding chapter at a time. 📖💫