Unplugged

It was the sound of silence that woke me one morning last week. No white noise from my sound machine and no gentle rumble of the heat turning on throughout our house. Startled, I looked over to check the time. No numbers were lit on our analog our clock. Bolting upright, I knew this could mean just one thing. Our power was out.

A while later standing in the kitchen, I was thankful for Robert’s preparation and quick thinking. It saved the morning and my mood from going south. He had ground the coffee beans the night before, and heated water on our outdoor gas burner to brew a fresh pot of French Roast. Its strong smoky aroma and chocolate nutty taste perked up my senses.

Once fortified with a cup of caffeine, we realized there would be no LA Times Crossword, or Wordle, or Strands, or Connections solving, as there was no internet connection. So we leashed up Kippers and out for a walk we went. Eerily quiet, we noticed the traffic lights at a busy intersection were blinking red, so we strolled a different way. The tall green pines and eucalyptus trees lining the street looked majestic against the blue sky. So fragrant, too.

Thirty-five minutes later, we started up our cul-de-sac, hoping to return to the buzzing world of civilization, but we knew it was not yet to be. No lights on in darkened windows, no smell of breakfast wafting out onto the cool morning air, and no creak and squeak of garage doors opening. Inside, our house felt as chilly as outside, so we kept our layers on. A hot meal would be warming and gratefully Robert came to the rescue again! Cooked out back, the crisp slices of bacon and thick matzo brie never smelled or tasted so good!

Showered and dressed in more layers, it was time to move into my day. Without thinking I walked down the hallway to my work and craft room turning on lights that didn’t light. My schedule for the day rested on my desk. Listed on it were internet research, journaling, blog writing, my Quest for Calm activity, vacuuming, and laundry. How could I get this all done? Once I accepted I had no control over this situation, I got on with what I could do, instead of worrying about what I couldn’t.

Surprisingly by mid-day, I had filled several pages in my journal and had written many more on a lined pad of paper in long hand for an upcoming blog. Right about then it was time for another dog walk. Though our nearby park was void of people, there remained a few piles of dry leaves. We laughed as Kippers jumped in them, rustling them around.

Back home again, there was still no power, so I decided rock painting would be next. Dotting my slender stones with bright blue, green, and pink acrylic paints, this month’s calming activity proved to be just that…so relaxing. Instead of listening to my favorite jazz station while I created, I was treated to the sounds of birds chirping, squirrels chattering, dogs barking, neighbors gabbing, and cars passing, daily life happening right outside my window. It reminded me of summers spent in Arizona.

From my journal, July 30, 1996, Fountain Hills, Arizona

“…monsoon weather! When the power goes out…so quiet. You can hear birds, ticking clocks, even the wind…”

With more time on my hands, I moved to the dining table where I begin stuffing, signing, addressing, sealing, and stamping my first pile of holiday cards. I had about thirty done before I noticed the shadows getting longer and my stomach growling. Creative and productive, the day passed by in a blink.

As the sun was setting, Robert was in the backyard preparing yet another al fresco meal, while I was busy locating flashlights, candles, and matches. We ate by candlelight, something we rarely do at home. And should do more often! With no TV, we skipped the nattering of talking heads and instead cozied up in our bedroom under two extra fleecy blankets to read, and drift off to a restful sleep.

After twenty-two and a half hours of hush, we were awakened at 2:20 a.m. by the white noise from my sound machine, red flashing numbers on our alarm clock, and the rumble of heat turning on. While comforting, being unplugged for a day and night turned out to be a pause from all the noise, notifications, and news we encounter every day. It was a welcome break, one we didn’t even know we needed.