Julie Kemp Pick
We experienced a major power failure that began around 9:00 Tuesday night. Fortunately, it cooled off in the evening and we were able to sleep with a steady breeze of fresh air, that was preferable to the steady breeze of snoring. This experience made me think of previous power failures that happened when our kids were little.
When we first moved into our home about 22 years ago, we frequently had to deal with flickering lights followed by total darkness. I remember one year, we lost our power right after a big holiday meal and I had to clean up by candlelight after our guests went home.
Bedtime was always the scariest during a power failure when our boys were small; so we'd gather them up in our big bed with flashlights in hand, and my husband would tell them stories. They were used to hearing me ramble on all day long, but when my husband spoke they listened. He would tell them all about growing up in a family where English was their second language, and the many sacrifices his parents made for him and his younger brother. If they were really good, he would spice things up by telling them some of the mischief he got into with his little brother.
This year there were no great stories, and no cute little boys to cuddle up with. Our younger son was driving in the midst of the terrible storm from summer school, so I couldn't help but try to wrestle him to the ground for hugs when he arrived home safely.
The next morning my husband surprised me by not going in to work, as their Internet service was down. While I was eating breakfast, I heard him rustling with his tools in the bathroom off of the kitchen. The room was pitch black except for the glow of his flashlight as he was fixing the toilet. Never in a million years would I think that seeing my husband shirtless, tinkering with the toilet would be such a turn on...