It’s raining really hard. Like, Noah’s Ark type of downpour. There’s thunder and lightning. I’m hearing those really relaxing rumble sounds.

It won’t last long, of course. I think it’s already slowing and soon, it will be gone. But I was here, enjoyed it, and appreciated it while it lasted. I am fortunate for that. I am blessed, I guess, to have a warm house, a full belly, and the ability to just enjoy the sound. I’m thankful for the rain and the life that it provides to the fields which, hopefully, will equate to a bountiful harvest.

The silly computer says it’s 91 and partly sunny. Well, it might be if it wasn’t for the clouds. Silly computer. The weather is for incorrect weather forecasters who read mindlessly off a teleprompter – much like President Brandon.

There’s a thought. What if Brandon is a horrible weather forecaster. Whatever he says means that we should expect the opposite. It’s like the recession bill that advocates increased spending. Given that part of America’s trouble is too much money in the economy now, adding more isn’t the best idea. It’s like when the French King Louis… the one that was married to Marie Antoniette, tried to fix France’s economy by increasing spending.

That worked out really well. So well, in fact, that he lost his head. Violence and an entirely new government were needed to pull France out of the “let them eat cake” mode.

Hopefully, that won’t be needed here. If AOC says “let them eat cheeseburgers,” I’m done. I’m moving to Mexico. Land should be cheap there since everyone is moving up here. I could buy a nice little cottage near the ocean and a mountain. I could settle in an English-speaking community in another country. It happens in America – some places primarily speak Chinese, Spanish, or something else. There’s bound to be an English-speaking community in Mexico.

In 13 days, I’m returning to Florida.
Typically, I think, is when I would migrate back for the Queen of Hell part of the year. But, this time, it’s different. I’m just going to help pack and move Jason here. As far as I know, this will be permanent. He and I will have a little house that sits six feet above the ground. It has a yellow kitchen and a blue living room. The porch will be new. The roof is strong. I will be able to grow sunflowers in the front yard and tomatoes in the back.

Mom and Elmer will be just down the street. I can still help mow the grass and borrow yard tools as needed. Maybe, on occasion, Jason can feed them his lasagna. We can take care of them as they have already taken care of us.

This might be what a supportive environment feels like. Maybe. There will be quirks, of course, but a foundation based on respect and love, will prevail.

But, I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around it. Jason coming up here after years of refusal is just odd. Being back on my dead-end street all year round is doubly odd. While I’m kind of looking forward to winter, I’m very apprehensive about the aches and pain from my back and arthritis that the coldness will bring.

I’ve successfully dodged that for the past twenty years. I guess I’m due for some payback.

What will be odd is being around him all year. For the past five or six, I knew that — if I could just endure any disagreements for a little while — I’ll be out of reach. Persephone returns to the fields where the lord of hell cannot touch her. I can be independent and have times when he doesn’t haunt my thoughts. I can put myself first.

That’s going to change. I won’t be able to get far enough away when we continually share the same bed and house. Hopefully, the independent me sticks around as she often goes into hiding when Jason is around. I put him first in my thoughts and delay my own wants and desires. That can cause a lot of frustration and lack of self-boundaries, something that I need to be me.

That’ll all be on me…. and him too, partly. If I want to go to the gym at 4am, I can still go. I don’t have to wait or even ask for his permission. I’ll just — go. That might be the hardest thing. I’ll have to trust that he’ll be here when I get back and, moreover, not be upset or disappointed that I flew for a little while.

Just like him coming here, the relationship will have to move. Move or stagnate.

I still can’t fathom it. I suppose the situation will just be something that I’ll have to take a day at a time. No masterminding here. I guess I’m fortunate that I’ve squished that part of me into near non-existence.

Yup. The rain is gone now.
The computer – 88 “sunny” – might be right, finally.

Since I’m not moving every six months, I’ve joined a writing group. It consists of two guys, four women, and me. It meets once a month. The first meeting was not that impressive, but it was a meeting with strangers, and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The next meeting is this Thursday. I don’t have anything prepared for them.

But, that’s okay. I think I’ll toss them the blog I wrote about mass burning for Covid victims. While it might not be completely relevant now, I’ still think it’s one of my better blogs. That’ll give me another month to advance my story – a story – any story.

I’m hoping that a writer’s group will help prod me towards finishing a novel or two or more. I’m not sure how that’ll go, though. I tend to write a lot more when Jason isn’t with me. Writing is one of my independent actions. I’ll have to work on that too.

Lots and lots of adjustments. Some make me apprehensive. Some might make me uncertain or even angry.

But, just like the rain, I have a warm home, enjoy the rumbles, and am blessed to have people who care.

I have no doubt that I’ll survive the storm.