As I write this, I’m sitting in an airport — again — waiting for the final flight of what has turned into a four-part flying series.

My destination is finally within reach, but getting here? It’s been an adventure, and not just because of the travel itself.

It’s been a journey in rediscovering the beautiful moments that can unfold when we stop clinging to control and simply let life happen, even in the chaos of customs lines and terminal dashes.

Earlier today, I found myself in Brussels, inching forward in a customs line that moved at the pace of molasses.

Each row — each 10-minute shuffle — felt like waiting for the front seat of the best roller coaster at Cedar Point: full of anticipation, anxiety and the “will I make it?” inner monologue playing on loop. The pressure was building. I made it this far. Missing the last leg of my trip now would’ve felt like falling just short of the summit.

And then I met her.

Her name was Hadley; though I didn’t know that at the start.

She was standing just ahead of me, and we quickly realized we were kindred spirits in that moment: both racing against the clock, unsure we’d make our flights and craving a little encouragement.

She was heading to Valencia — a name that practically sings romance — and I was en route to my own destination. We bonded over our shared stress and quickly found ourselves giving pep talks to one another. We calculated the timing, planned our speed walk route and made a pact: we were going to make it. Somehow, we just would.

And finally, we did. We approached the final passport check, the last gatekeeper before we could sprint toward our terminals. I looked back at her and smiled — we made it. The woman managing the line noticed our exchange and said to Hadley, “You can join your traveling companion.” We laughed — this was the first time we’d even been acknowledged as such.

“Yes,” I said. “Get up here.”

We handed over our passports, and the man behind the desk asked, “Are you traveling together?”

We looked at each other, laughed again and gave our separate destinations.

That’s when I realized something: I didn’t even know her name.

I turned and said, “By the way, I’m Lisa.”

She smiled and said, “I’m Hadley.”

As we speed-walked to our gates, I learned she was finally making it to Valencia after having to cancel a study abroad trip because of COVID. She planned to explore different cities over five weeks before ending in Munich, where her uncle would help her meet with the consulate.

She’s from Woodbridge, Virginia, a high school history teacher, a Caps fan and spearheading a leadership group for young girls. My heart swelled — what a force.

We parted with a hug and a wish for safe travels. As I walked toward my gate, I couldn’t help but think about how scared I was to take this trip alone.

I had let that fear linger for far too long.

But if I had traveled with someone else, I wouldn’t have had this gift.

I wouldn’t have met Hadley and heard her story as she took the reins back on a dream that had once been delayed. I wouldn’t have met the beautiful couple on my first flight, flying to Rome for the fourth time together. Nor would I have shared that chaotic-yet-comforting customs line with the family of eight, each one whispering “We’ll make it,” and then actually making it.

Sometimes, being alone opens the door to connection in the most unexpected ways. Sometimes, standing still in a long line is exactly where the magic happens.

From me to you — next time you’re standing alone and unsure, keep your eyes and heart open.

Your next chapter might begin with a stranger in line and a shared moment of hope.

Mother, author, entrepreneur and founder of Dandelion-Inc, Lisa Resnick wants to hear your story. Share memories with her by emailing lisa@dandelion-inc.com.