This is getting to be a little scary.

For a while now… well, for over ten years, actually… Jason has had a standing invite to join my tribe in Indiana. This would mean that he would have to leave Florida and abandon a house. This house is one that we bought and are currently have a mortage on.

It was a fluke that we were able to get the house starting out. The realtor and mortgaging agent had to become creative with our income, ages, and other factors. But, they got it for and we’ve been there for just over twenty years.

Like most things in our lives, it’s shabby, in dire need of repair, but well-loved and much needed. In ten more years, the rag-a-muffin house would be whole ours providing the walls are still standing.

Because of various circumstances, political, personal, and future-apprehension planning, Jason has decided to take my mom up on her gracious offer to become an honorary Hoosier and join my tribe.

He was, as he always had been, apprehensive.
Jason is a native Floridian and has never spent any real time outside of the state. It’s familiar. His family is there. Be it ever so humid and regardless of the hurricanes, there’s no place like home. I understand this.

Times change. Politics change. And, with the loss of his job and inability to find a new one, he decided it’s best to cash out, buy a house sans-mortage in Indiana, and try to make a life of it here. He’s had to overcome personal doubt and apprehension. Each passing news cycle seems to lend him more confidence and resolve that he is doing the right by me and whatever potential future we may have left.

He may be right.
All indications show that he is right – for once.

But, much like McBeth and Lady McBeth, the more he becomes determined, the less I feel to be.

From years ago until recently, I really wanted Jason here. The unification of my family, my security, and my boyfriend all in a single place was very appealing. Maybe, just maybe, that’s what I need for my ‘best life.’ All aspects, medical, financial, and personal, can be met instead of just one or two at any given time.

It’s just on the horizon. Last night, once the house has been sold, he’ll have to be up here by September. That’s just in time for the glorious fall season – one that he has been largely denied in Florida. That’s also when the tax and accounting firms hire and… just maybe… 2023 will finally be our year. Maybe, it’ll be “my” year.

However, I’m starting to feel nothing but trepidation and doubt. The closer we get to this point, the more these feelings intensify. Honestly, I don’t know why.

I shouldn’t feel threatened. I don’t. Any guilt I have from leaving my aging mother alone for half a year should vanish. I can finally see a dentist twice a year. If something goes wrong, I’ll be able to see a doctor. The house Jason and I will have won’t have water-damaged walls, a cracked ceiling, or rotted cabinets. It’ll be a more secure and controlled environment. I’ll actually be able to grow things as there is dirt here instead of sand.

Then… why the doubt? Why the fear?
I don’t know. It’s puzzling and disturbing.