The Draw

"Sing me a song of a lass that is gone,
Say, could that lass be I?
Merry of soul she sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye."

October 26th will be the first day of the rest of my life. This holding pattern is over. My questions have been answered. My application sent in, approved, and sent back. Tickets have been purchased. Plans have been made. 

I've been waiting to write this post for 8 months, and now that everything has finally been nailed down (a process something akin to nailing jello to a tree, let me tell ya), no words seem right.

The only words that mean anything to me now are these: ten days. 

Ten days. Eight hours on a plane. 3-ish hours on a train. Then, life. Ten days. Ten days. Ten days.

And a buttload of cleaning.