The Calm Before The Storm

Everything is dead calm. There's no breeze. The air is so still and thick with moisture that it's stifling. I can't remember ever observing this in my own front yard before. She's sitting next to me, looking east. She tells me that the reason the light is coming from the east, even though the sun is setting in the west, is because sun is reflecting on the rain from this magnificent storm heading our way. She tells me that back in Minnesota when the air would cease to move it meant a tornado was coming. I think maybe all the butterflies in China are sleeping. She tells me that a lazy breeze will start, getting stronger in the passing minutes. She tells me that the wind will start coming from all directions, north, south, east and west. She tells me that I will smell the storm soon after the wind picks up. I know these things. Still, I haven't been present in a weather moment like I am now; my heart at peace and my love sitting next to me. I have taken it for granted. Then the lazy breeze blows, a mystery I surely will never be able to totally wrap my brain around. The mystery is not that she said it would happen, but that a gentle wind just started. Something from nothing.