Homesick for a place we hardly know

"God you're going to struggle," Sarah says laughingly. "You wear ratty tee shirts, black running shorts AND EXPENSIVE FRENCH DEODORANT!"

"I'm cosmopolitan," I shrug.

"You need special lotion for the cracks on your heels," she continues. "Where you gonna get that?"

"We'll be living on salt water and that heals everything so I'll just dangle my feet in the Ocean every day."

"There won't be Internet access," she plows ahead. "You won't be connected and it's going to drive you crazy."

"I don't think it's going to be all that hard," I reply.

"It's gonna kill you," she concludes walking into the kitchen.

My wife's normally right about most things as she is about my preference of Vichy deodorant, foot care products and immediate connectivity to anything that may interest me ... which is mostly what the kids are up to, music and an array of random activity.

Truth be told I'm less connected than I've ever been but I suppose that's a relative statement.

Besides all of that, I'm anxious for a change, the clock's ticking on the amount of time I have left on earth and I'm so damn homesick for a place I hardly know.

We've seen what it's like though ... on our honeymoon in southern Belize ... San Salvador Bahamas ... Porto Bello, Panama ... and on "Chicken Day" at a market in Costa Rica.

Confession time ... years ago walking to Seine Bright, Belize ... Sarah stopped me pointing to a house for sale and said, "Let's do it now."

A thousand reasons not to rushed through my head ... we'd just gotten married ... the girls are still adjusting ... we both owned homes ... we didn't know what we wanted to do professionally.

"We'll make it work somehow," she says standing there staring at what both know we wanted.

But I said no.

And that's the regret I have in my life.

It would have been far easier to do it then than it is trying to figure it out now.

Now it's hard as Hell with less capital, older girls entrenched in their own lives, a new baby, selfish people from the past demanding more and that damn clock ticking away my time.

"You gotta do it before you die," I'm fond of telling people and now I find myself in desperate need of my own advice.

I am incredibly blessed ... far, far beyond anything I've earned or deserve ... with a wife who doesn't quit ... is already preparing me for the new life ahead and has me utterly convinced that I'd better hurry and accept these things because ... we're almost there.