Another Storm

They sat at the kitchen table, listening to the storm raging. She flinched whenever a gust rattled the windows. He gently laid his gnarled hand on hers, enfolding her trembling fingers.

“Everything will be fine,” he said.

“If that oak had fallen ten feet closer in the Great Storm, we’d have been crushed,” she replied.

He caressed the wooden table with his free hand and smiled. “But it didn’t, we weren’t and now we have this lovely table. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

An hour later the wind died down.

“You were right,” she said.