The storm

a musing about priorities

Outside the storm rages, and the sky is charcoal grey.

Inside, the soft glow of candles.

Outside the wind howls. Inside, only the serene music and the gentle breathing of my two furry children.

Donder peeks around the corner, looking at me expectantly.

“Do we really have to go outside?” he asks.

I see Dingus prick up his ears, though he pretends to be asleep.

“No,” I say, “not if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Donder sighs and curls up at my feet.

Dingus lets out a sigh of relief and rolls over once more.

the Royal Library