Even Wrapped in Ash, You Can Choose Comfort

Good evening.
I am Kotonoha, an apprentice fortune teller.
Today, I went fishing with my husband.

High tide was at 6:00 PM.
We arrived at the harbor just after 5:00 PM to match that.
Since there was a volcanic eruption the other day, we were fishing in an environment where dust was swirling.

I have absolutely no knowledge of fishing myself, and I just watch from the sidelines as my husband happily looks at the waves and mutters to himself. I don't understand anything about the rigs or gear. I just watch from the side as he swings his rod.

My husband's view on wanting company is that he wants me to praise and admire the cool moment when he catches something. I have yet to praise him even once, though.

Even so, there are some good things about it.
Someone who can set up a chair at the harbor and read a book alone,
there aren't many people like that, right?
For a brief moment, I was immersed in the world of my book in front of the sky and the sea.

The wind was stronger than I expected, and it carried away the heat.
While reading '1984', I thought, if only there weren't any ash—but maybe that's being a bit greedy.

Sitting at the harbor, just looking at the sea,
the sky felt bigger and closer than usual.
I was enveloped in such a twilight.

Perhaps I was able to experience this luxury thanks to my fishing-loving husband. He didn't catch anything at all today, but well, that's fine.

Even if our purposes are different, we can spend time under the same sky.
I think that, perhaps, that alone is enough for us to be happy.

It might be that no matter the time, we can choose comfort.

Until then, under the moon.