One tree to many snapped, cracked and plopped over the electric lines. We used up the propane making popcorn and nobly decided to eat the ice cream before it melted.
A game of Risk by candlelight left half a dozen pools of hardened wax on the oak table.
As we started to pile on the extra blanket and clothes, the house cleared its throat and hummed back to life with lights, furnace fan and digital clocks.
All around us, pine tree bowed with ice, but I slept snug under the warming breeze of central air — until a thunderous noise and a shaking of the house woke me to a once again electric-free, cold house.
I stepped out the sliding glass door into the wet cold. Outlined against the sky was one big pine limb. It was still attached to the tree by a few shreds of bark but rested across our roof.
The next morning at work, we swapped storm stories, worked at the computer terminals and moaned in chorus as lights flickered and screens faded.
In the dark, I filed news clippings and waited for a dial tone so I could tell my children about the order to boil water.
When the computers were resurrected from their electronic death, I worked fast and finished the absolutely-have-to-do list. The next time the office sighed into darkness I went home to my children.
Two days of no-school without TV, computer or lights left two teens ready for any entertainment, even the adventure of shopping. They drew up a list of emergency supplies and we headed for the grocery store.
The man restocking he freezer with sacks of ice, told his storm story. “We didn’t have electricity here this morning but we opened anyway. People had to shop with flashlights and there were so many here that they kept all the grocery carts busy. We used auxiliary power at the checkouts.”
Wish I’d been there. It sounded like a real shopping adventure.
Also missed half the stuff on my list. Gaping spaces silently announced sold out.
We reached the department store, just as it opened. Carts filled with flashlights, batteries and bottled water waited at the front door. We stocked up and returned home.
The bright sunlight revealed the clutter from the previous night. We cleaned up and prepared for another night of no electricity. My husband was busy adjusting the propane tank to use with the camp stove when the lights returned.
He took apart the camp stove when the lights returned.
He took apart the camp stove and stored it. I put away the emergency supplies. Teenage friends were invited for the night. One came with an admonition to “take a shower while you’re near hot water.” They played Risk under electric lights, watched videos and ignored the ice cream.
Saturday morning we hauled the limb off the roof, cleaned up he fallen branches in the yard, washed clothes and boiled water to drink. Except for the water, we were back to normal.
Sunday morning at church we found out how abnormal our normal was. Others were making do with propane stoves, candles and kerosene lanterns.
The young pastor jokingly wished for a continuation of his simple life. Got his wish for two more days, too.
All I wish is that I could shop y flashlight in a dark store.
Maybe next time.