DISASTER DAY #2 - THE EVENING

Leaving my daughter's house, I also leave behind electricity, cable, internet, and light.  I live only a half a mile away, but as soon as I leave the confines of Main Street, there is no light.  None.  The moon is merely a sliver, and my lights cast eerie slits into the thick blackness of it all.  Even though I see no other car lights, I am totally thrown by the vacuous velvety depth of nothingness.

It feels as if I am lost in deep space.

I cannot see the sidewalk.  I cannot see the buildings, I cannot see traffic lights, and I cannot see if anything or anyone is anywhere.  I am submerged in nothingness.  The sensation is unnerving.  I look in my rearview mirror at the fading reality behind me, so I know I am still grounded in some kind of operational universe, but I cannot wrap my head around the fact that I see nothing outside of my headlights.

I pull into my driveway forward - I do not even attempt to back in because I cannot see anything at all to judge where the bricks are or where the fence is.  I cut the engine.  The silence envelops me and swallows the car.  I grab my keys and a small but mighty flashlight and use that plus my phone to navigate the short but serpentine walkway from my car to my front door.  I can't see if anyone is waiting on the patio for me.  I can't see if anyone is inside the house.  I am Helen Keller at this point because there is no light and there is no sound.

I find small flashlights right at the doorway so I can light my way once I am inside.  I use the smaller ones because the D-batteries are too damn expensive.  I have lots of AA batteries for my camera, so I restock those into the fading flashlights every six hours or so when the batteries run out and darkness returns. 

Tonight I do not light candles.  I am concerned about residual gas pockets in the house and the neighborhood since we are at one of the leak sites.  I am a little concerned about looters, as well, so I set up my makeshift bed in the living room and put my flashlights on to point through rooms.  I am also a little wary of the emergency crews returning to tell us that we really shouldn't be there or of them trying to get in again during the night.  I want to hear anyone outside wandering or attempting to break in, so my bed upstairs will just have to wait.

Around 9:30 I decide the darkness is starting to bore me and get myself ready to sleep.  Sleep -- something that barely came to me last night and undoubtedly will repeat its mediocre performance tonight, which it does.  I wander aimlessly several times during the night I get up twice just to change over one flashlight for the other, replace batteries, and keep the fresh one for the next rotation. 

I am hopeful for a bright, sunny, clear morning with sunbeams streaming into the house so I can get some things in order by the light of day.

I am mistaken yet again.