I'm floating, yet grounded. I want to drive... somewhere. I'm being pulled. North, South, East, West.. directions on a compass, but they have no meaning to me. All that I know is forward. Yet, I'm not ready. Could you make that call, say goodbye to everything, already on the road, then throw your cell phone out the window?

The wind is in my sails, but with each gust, I lash another rope to the anchor; I'm not ready. Not ready.