Big City Glitter, Small Town Heart

Let me tell you, friends — the last month has felt like I’ve been living in one of those fast‑paced montage scenes from a movie. You know the ones: skyline shots, taxi horns, neon lights, and me power‑walking with a rolling tote bag like I have somewhere very important to be.

Two big cities. Back‑to‑back. Both bursting with history, restaurants that require reservations three months in advance, shopping that could bankrupt me in under an hour, and shows that make you want to stand up and clap even if you’re sitting alone.

All the fun stuff I don’t get in my sweet little hometown.

And listen — I tried. I really did. I snuck out during downtime like a teenager breaking curfew just to grab a taste of the big‑city magic. A museum here, a fancy dessert there, a store where the price tags made me whisper “oh absolutely not.” I squeezed in as much sparkle as I could between training, work and responsibilities.

But here’s the thing no one tells you about extended city life: The longer you stay, the louder home starts calling your name.

Sure, the city has Broadway shows right down the road. Sure, it has Michelin stars sprinkled around like confetti. Sure, it has shopping that makes my heart flutter and my wallet cry.

But it doesn’t have my people. It doesn’t have my loves. It doesn’t have my creature comforts, my routines, my cozy nest, or my furbabies who act like I’ve been gone for 47 years every time I walk through the door.

Big cities feed the curiosity. Home feeds the soul.

And as much fun as it is to travel, explore, and pretend I’m the kind of person who casually attends shows on a Tuesday night… nothing beats the moment when you finally head back to your own little corner of the world.

I’m ready for my nest. My quiet. My comfort. My people.

The city was dazzling — but home is where my heart kicks off its shoes and sighs in relief.

And let me tell you… I’m looking forward to that sigh very soon.