Create an emergency preparedness plan.

Taiwan has always carried that unspoken risk,

like a patch of gray cloud on the weather map—

always there, yet never drifting over.

Living here, I’m not unaware.

It’s just that there are so many other things

that feel more urgent right now:

my family’s health,

the troubles at work,

or even whether I should cook an extra bowl of noodles for dinner.

I still keep an emergency backpack,

with first-aid supplies, a radio, and batteries.

At home, there’s also a big white barrel of filtered water

and some dry food in the kitchen corner.

The white barrel sits quietly,

catching a bit of sunlight during the day.

Every time I pass it while cooking, it’s there—

a silent reminder

that some things in life aren’t needed every day,

but just knowing they’re there

makes you feel at ease.

It’s not about being pessimistic.

It’s about knowing that being prepared

makes the mind a little calmer.

Air-raid shelter?

There’s none nearby.

I’d probably just stay indoors

until things outside settle down.

Luckily, my home is near the mountains,

where the risk feels lower—

at least, lower than that patch of gray cloud.

And the sounds of insects and birds

are still easier to hear.

Sometimes, hearing the insects and birds

is the greatest peace you can have.