She reflects on a seems like yesterday evening, when the lights went out throughout her neighborhood. For her, it's usually an adventure. A time to get off the treadmill of life, and just live.
"What the.........," she hears her son threaten under his breath.
"Hey, the lights just went out," yelled her unsuspecting son from the shower.
"Are all the lights out?" her daughter inquired.
"Lights are out! Up and down the street!" her husband confirms, if only to himself.
She had been sitting on the couch, watching TV. Relaxing.
She smiled to herself.
She loves when the lights go out.
Everything becomes so simplistic.
So olden days.
One after another, each of them walked out the front door. To stand on the porch. To see what the neighbors were doing.
"Hello. Did your lights go out, too?" someone yells from across the street.
"Yeah!" her family shouts in unison.
Little did anyone know that lights out would continue for seventy-two hours.
Three whole days.
Three whole nights.
It was summertime. Meaning no schedules. She and the kids were out of school. And her husband was out of work; so he was full of free time.
The weather was hot, so the coolness of the pool felt perfect under the moon-lit sky. They talked. The whole family did. They laughed. Caught up. What fun and exciting - or not so exciting things - had been happening. Joked. Cajoled. Sat close. Hugged.
As they enjoyed each others company, they could hear as more and more hours passed neighbors revving up generators.
Lights in those houses began to light up.
Regular routine continued for those families.
Not for them. There was no regular routine.
There they were. Living in the moment.
For three days. And three nights.
"What the.........," she hears her son threaten under his breath.
"Hey, the lights just went out," yelled her unsuspecting son from the shower.
"Are all the lights out?" her daughter inquired.
"Lights are out! Up and down the street!" her husband confirms, if only to himself.
She had been sitting on the couch, watching TV. Relaxing.
She smiled to herself.
She loves when the lights go out.
Everything becomes so simplistic.
So olden days.
One after another, each of them walked out the front door. To stand on the porch. To see what the neighbors were doing.
"Hello. Did your lights go out, too?" someone yells from across the street.
"Yeah!" her family shouts in unison.
Little did anyone know that lights out would continue for seventy-two hours.
Three whole days.
Three whole nights.
It was summertime. Meaning no schedules. She and the kids were out of school. And her husband was out of work; so he was full of free time.
The weather was hot, so the coolness of the pool felt perfect under the moon-lit sky. They talked. The whole family did. They laughed. Caught up. What fun and exciting - or not so exciting things - had been happening. Joked. Cajoled. Sat close. Hugged.
As they enjoyed each others company, they could hear as more and more hours passed neighbors revving up generators.
Lights in those houses began to light up.
Regular routine continued for those families.
Not for them. There was no regular routine.
There they were. Living in the moment.
For three days. And three nights.
We had a black out in San Diego last summer as well. I loved every minute of it. We lit candles and lanterns and played games instead of watching T.V. and playing on our social media. Even my kids liked it but, it was a mothers dream. At least this mother. Our gas was still on so we could cook and the shower was hot. HOWEVER, about two weeks ago we were visiting our son up in Los Angeles. We were staying at a hotel at the airport and the power went off. For 24 hours. It was scary being amongst strangers, no elevator (we were on the 12th floor) halls and hotel room pitch dark. All of the computer systems down so no check in or out. We couldn't even shower because it was pitch dark. ARghhh. Better to be tucked in safe at home when your power goes out. Much more fun!
ReplyDeleteI remember this very well. It was a wonderful bonding moment for all of us!
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