So Sis and Bud started running around flipping switches. It wasn't just a breaker; the whole house was out. The rain and wind had stopped. We hadn't noticed any transformers blow, heard any trees fall, and if we'd just continued playing airplane flight and then Mommy-is-Queen-with-her-own-spies downstairs, we would never have known.
Not frightened, they were intrigued, as I recall being when we would lose power during storms in Texas. And so we ventured outside to take a survey of whom else had lost power. Bud called this "my serious work" and went from house to house looking for clues that there was power or not. But no tvs were on, no lamps visible; he counted at least 9 dark houses. Our neighbors were gathering outside but no one knew anything. There was talk of the last outtage that lasted six hours, of not opening fridges so food would keep, of hoping the local pizza place had power, of wondering if the weather would hold for grilling. Kids were excited, grownups too, even. Something novel, something different.
And as quickly as it started it was over. Bud saw a lit doorway sconce; could it be solar? But then there was another, and then a garage light on. A neighbor told us the power had just returned. Bud and Sis were downcast . . . and yet hopeful. Even then they then ran to our house and checked all the switches. Even though each light came on, they still wondered if all the power was back. And even though I suggested we could pretend we didn't have electricity, and then even though we started to watch the show we had tried to begin less than an hour earlier, it just wasn't as much fun.
And I remembered clearly that brief sadness when storms would clear, lights would come on, and the temporary suspension of the everyday would end and normal would resume.
No comments:
Post a Comment