Hour One: The first flicker is a surprise. “Where’s Cake Boss?” Granny snaps. I click the remote. Then the lights go off: power outage.
Between telephone poles, the lines sag with ice. Kinda pretty, actually. Maybe I’ll read an improving book. By candlelight!
Hour Two: Tee hee! Living like the Olden Days. Light the hurricane lamp, guv’nah! Fetch kindling for the blaze! Popcorn on the woodstove? I’ll just grab some butter — oh, right, the fridge is off. Keep the cool in, save the meat.
We’re in for the evening, dear family! Break out the board games.
Hour Three: Mum’s rebuilding the Jenga tower, singing “My Favorite Things.” Dad pops another Coors. Granny, bundled in quilts, rocks and rocks. The fire needs feeding — depleted porch stash means another dark, slushy trek to the woodpile.
I’m about Olden Dayed out. Think I’ll hit the sack. It’s 6:30...
Click to read the rest of this essay in New Hampshire Magazine!
Illustration by Brad Fitzpatrick