Stuck Between Two Lives

This is our fifth night in darkness. Nick said, tonight, that the nights are the hardest for him. I find the days are harder.

Okay, let's start with the fact that I know I am spoiled. Lights, heat, cold or hot food are at my fingertips most of the time. I can jump into my car and go where I want. I can meet, call, text, or Facebook my friends. I have access to any number of interesting stores whether I feel like painting or grabbing an organic snack.

Here's what I find difficult. Most of the rest of this area has had power for the last couple of days. School is back in session. My usual schedule of activities are at hand. So I'm getting text messages from people while I'm struggling with the five gallon water jug, trying to fill the tank on the back of the toilet. Other people are calling on my cell phone while I'm trying to fill those jugs in the smelly concrete tank house. It's an awful mix. I can slow down for the camping stuff, then I need to speed up for the rest of the world. The demand is there to get busy.

Today, I was supposed to get Nick to band on time before school, get boxes and wrapping paper at Ben Franklin for the den meeting tonight, shop for dinner and a prescription, walk the dog with my friend, volunteer at school, help with the den meeting, and I had quilt night tonight. Even with all of my modern conveniences, it was to be a busy day. By the afternoon, I couldn't even imagine going to my quilt night in a bright and cosy room full of women who didn't even have the same weather we had last week. We live in the convergence zone and towns just five miles away had it much easier.

I volunteered at school today and the kids are all back to normal and don't have much to say about having lost power for a few days. Even the other parents, looking all clean and coiffed, are surprised we're still stuck. They're sympathetic, even offering for us to come shower, but I don't want to depend on someone else's kindness. There it is. I don't accept help comfortably.

When I got home after my errands, I had an hour and a half to build a fire in the wood stove and get a stew going so we could have some real food for dinner. Then while I volunteered at school, I was worried that I had either scorched my stew or let the fire go out in my absence. Plus, I needed to fill my jugs and drag that fifteen gallons of water back home on a sled with barely enough snow to cover the route. I can slow down to do that work, but then I had to hurry up to volunteer at school and later, to get to the den meeting on time. See what I mean? I was flipping back and fourth between cultures, old and new.

My grandma used to be amazed at all the things I got into, all the things we signed Nick up to do. She told me that when my dad was little, he played with his cousin sometimes, but mostly, he stayed at home with her. She kept that quiet lifestyle throughout her life, though she had most modern conveniences by the time I came along. I do remember when she got a washer and dryer for the first time and she got rid of 'that nasty old wringer' that she feared would take off a finger or a scalp. But I remember how she'd put bread on the outside edge of the oil heater to rise in an old coffee can. She understood a slow life and it was at her skirts that I figure I learned to be comfortable with it. Still, she stuck with it, choosing to spend her days quiet and mostly at home.

In any case, here I am, dirty, tired, and cold and I am truly ready to see the lights go on in my house. The rest of the world isn't stopping. Movies are still coming in from the library. There is work to be done and there are text messages to answer.

Thank you for listening, jb