It is easy to forget how nice electricity is until you are in the middle of a snowstorm and the lights go out.
For days.
At first, you sit around in the darkness and you hope it is just a temporary condition. Then you start to gather candles, you search for the flashlight you swear you just saw the other day, and you put the kids to bed like normal.
At some point, you realize this might take a while, as you hear the hum of the generators the neighbors have pulled from their garage and filled with gas. You remember that you always wanted to get one and you wonder how much they cost. You look with envy at your neighbors house, lit and warm, as the chill settles over the house.
The first day was fine. We hit McDonalds for breakfast after shoveling the driveway. When you pay as much as we do in property taxes, the snow barely has time to settle on the streets before the trucks plow it off to the sides. When we return home, the children realized that no electricity equals boredom and, though their father suggests playing a game (Mom was out of town all week), the children ask if there is power at dad’s office. If there is power, there is a chance to charge the electronics.
We camp in the living room, around a fire that burns all night, and we hang some quilts on the doorways to keep the heat in the room. By this point, Mom has navigated the power lines that have fallen across the streets and joined in the fun. The conversation turns to all the food in the freezers and refrigerator. We probably could have stored the milk in one of the bedrooms or out in the snow, but no one thought of that.
By day three, we leave town. Dad had a retreat to lead in Delaware, so we pack up and visit friends and Aunt Barbara in a whirlwind trip down the turnpike.
Much to our relief, our neighbors send a picture via text while we are away. It shows the lights on in the house. Whew.
Now, the work of salvaging food, cleaning up the campsite, and resetting all the wireless devices begins.
Tomorrow the forecast calls for six to eight inches of snow and high winds. I take comfort in knowing that trees that fall cannot fall again.
At least I hope that is the case.
May your week be filled with light and warmth.
~pjd
