Writer on the storm (Thankful Thursday)

On Monday evening, we lost power as the storm formerly known as Hurricane Sandy (then known as Post-Tropical Cyclone Sandy) swept through the area. We called the power company on our thankfully-functioning land line. We listened to our local AM news station on a little battery-operated radio. We lay in the dark, listening to the wind, and watching occasional brilliant flashes in the sky (lightning? electrical explosions?) that were mysteriously accompanied by no sound. We thought about the giant trees surrounding us. The wind blew all night.

On Tuesday, we attempted to take a walk. Two blocks away, a road was barricaded. Three blocks away, a snapped tree rested on sagging power lines. Four blocks away, another road was barricaded. At that intersection, the traffic signals were dark. We walked past the train tracks: their signals were lit, but no trains were running, or would run at all that day.

But we were lucky. Our house was intact and dry; our trees were standing; no power lines lay on our house or in our road. I was able to do some cleaning (something I never seem to have time for otherwise), worked on my book by writing scenes and notes in longhand, read next to the window and later by candlelight, and talked with my husband. That gift of slow-moving time, time to think, was a blessing, too. I was lucky to have all those blessings, and I knew it.

I did long for a hot shower (we had water, but no hot water). And soup took forever to boil on our gas grill. And our only sources of entertainment were writing, reading, and the radio. It was like living in 1947. But still? LUCKY.

The power came back first, after 27 dark quiet hours. A day later, the internet returned. I reveled in the shower, and in lights that appear at the flick of a switch. I'm glad to be back in touch with the world, but sickened by the devastation I can now see in pictures, especially in NY and NJ.

For me, it's a Thankful Thursday. I hope you and yours are well.