The Seasoned Citizen

When Darkness Sets In

I suffered a power outage on Christmas morning. Losing electricity isn’t fun anytime, but Christmas morning? No heat, no water and no working range. 

I had slept in, knowing it was a holiday, and had just brushed my teeth when everything stopped, so no coffee, either. That’s what pushed me over the edge. I was grateful the failure had occurred during daytime hours and not at night when the absence of light, especially in winter, makes everything feel like a black hole, but no wake-up caffeinated stimulant–that’s the pits! 

My daughter, Ilene, who lives just 10 minutes away, heard that Heritage Hills’ power was out once again and called to see if I wanted to come over to her place. Because my family and friends were expected on Dec. 26, I had hoped to have a really quiet Christmas, a good time to reflect and reminisce about Christmases past and prepare for the next day’s onslaught.

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Dressed in a terry cloth muumuu, un-showered and un-made up, I allowed my grandson, Justin, to pick me up and was delighted to accept a strong cup of coffee upon arrival.

Since we planned to exchange gifts on Boxing Day, I had an enjoyable time watching the St. Johns open the presents under their family tree. I had previously been invited to share Christmas dinner with Ilene and her family but, feeling the loss of my husband more strongly this year, I demurred. I realize now that last Christmas I was still numb. The first year after Jason’s death was filled with so many changes and, in retrospect, seems almost like a dream. I drifted through each month, barely noticing the seasons change, then suddenly awoke to discover I could feel again, and it really hurt. That’s why I wanted to spend a quiet Christmas day, but New York State Electric deemed otherwise, until they repaired the damage.

We were about 22 people on Boxing Day. I smiled and fed them and was a welcoming hostess, all the while trying to ignore that empty, lonely place lurking just beneath the surface of my heart...an outage that, unfortunately, can never be repaired.

The opinions expressed herein are the writer's alone, and do not reflect the opinions of TAPinto.net or anyone who works for TAPinto.net. TAPinto.net is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the writer.

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