The tsunami is coming. I can see it in the distance on this sweet summer night while the cicadas sing and the mid season flowers bloom. I cannot yet hear the rumble, but the horizon grows a darker, more intense blue. The water before us sits eerily calm.
But on this night, I sit with you, fingers remembering the knit stitches that kept my mind and heart busy as I stood watch over your precarious existence. No ventilator here, just the sweet song of the cicadas and conversations from the open windows of the apartment building next door. Banda in the distance, the clinking of silverware on dishes, a child being chided for poor behavior.
You are with me and I am knitting with you. Tiny fingers over mine, they guide me to remember the stitches in time. While I await the impending overtake, I will revel in this night of solace with you.