Power Outage

It's eleven thirty in the morning and the afternoon storm is rolling in ahead of schedule. The sky is growing dark and the thunder is booming to the southwest. The breeze has gotten ahold of the leaves, fluttering them like a man thumbing the edge of a stack of thin paper.

The birds are quiet and here it comes, as I write this, the rain, soft velvet sound of it as it falls.

The cake is out of the oven, the birthday breakfast long made, eaten, and those dishes washed. There were bacon and biscuits and eggs and sliced tomatoes. We ate outside where now the tablecloth is getting soaked.

Here comes the rain, hard, no more velvet, and my big dog, Pearl, is trying to crawl up into my lap. She's always hated storms. I put my hand on her back and she is shaking like the leaves outside on the wisteria. The weather moves us all, one way or another.

Fifteen minutes later and the storm has almost passed, taking our electricity with it. Shit. I have a party to make, bread to mix up in the Kitchen Aid, okra to cut and fry, green tomatoes to do the same, an Afghani eggplant dish from last night to heat up, the bread to bake.

Here in Lloyd, our electricity goes out with great regularity. Sometimes it comes back on in an hour or so, sometimes it takes much longer. So many long lines of power, so many trees with branches ready to fall, ready to brush and interrupt our service. Jefferson County is big- the only county in the state that stretches from Georgia to the Gulf, and most of that big empty space, just trees and a few arteries of roads, paved to dirt, from heart to distant farm yard.

Another bolt of lightening, another deep powerful peal of thunder. The kind you feel in your chest. Pearl looks around, her old white eyebrows raised in worry and wonder.

I go plug in the old fashioned, non-electric phone that works miraculously, even without power. I call Progress Energy, who controls our power in this neck of the woods. I enter my phone number and of course, the first thing the human asks me for when she comes on the line is that same number.

Yes, the outage has been reported. Yes, they are working on it. A repair time is estimated for 2:30. The party is supposed to begin at three. Thank-you for using Progress Energy.

It's not her fault; I am resigned, not angry. Who could I be angry at? It is an act of God.
Which God, I am not sure.
Thor, perhaps.

Kurt Vonnegut would say, "And so it goes."
Annie Hall would say, "La-di-dah."

I think that sums it up.

La-di-dah, so it goes.
Life goes on.