When the power goes out

I place the last plate of food in front of my grandad as we sit down for our dinner of spaghetti and meatballs. The dish is not a family recipe as many have but made up of whatever we could find in the refrigerator and pantry. I finally take my seat and immediately dig into the delicious dish, the flavours dance on my tongue as I savour the craftsmanship that was put into this meal. A satisfied groan leaves my mouth just as the room turns black.

I feel the surrounding atmosphere change from pleasure to slight annoyance. It is not uncommon for our evenings to be surrounded by darkness. We are so used to it by now that not an eye blinked in response to the outage. This interference is a movement that the government likes to sell its people on.

“It’s for the conservation of our own country”

“We have implemented this to reduce the carbon footprint we’re leaving on the environment”

I often wonder if they believe their lies to help them sleep at night. Everyone knows that our country is failing and that the government is failing this country. I’ve regularly heard the suspicion that the finances allocated to keep the country running had allocated to their own pockets. It is not strange to find that many people say the government is trying to cover their asses by making the rest of the people pay for it.

As I’m not interested in all the politics behind it, I accept the reality we live in and continue finishing my meal. It’s gone slightly cold now, and it’s difficult to remember where I placed my plate. My grandparents move around the small space, searching for different light sources. My gran retrieves the candles we keep on hand and begins lighting them, one by one. Slowly, the fires burn and softly illuminate the area. The ambience becomes more inviting as I shovel another mouthful down. I know I should help, but the desire for food calls to my soul.

Once the candles have been lit and burn soundly, my gran takes her place again and joins me.

A few minutes later, my grandad returns with his trusty gas lamp which he uses for camping. Well now, instead of providing light in the dark forest it provides our dinnertimes with brightness.

The lamp immediately brightens and eliminates the remaining shadows around us. Satisfied with the glow, he returns to his seat and his spaghetti as well. 

We spend the rest of the meal in pleasant silence. No one feels the need to talk as the food speaks to our stomachs. Naturally, I am the first to finish and I relax back into the chair. A full belly sits proudly before me, and laziness befalls my being. My grandparents aren't far behind me. Eventually, all of us sit in companionable silence, waiting out the blackout.

Looking around at the people I’ve known my whole life, I inspect the years and memories sketched on their faces. It makes me think of what my life will be like at their age. Will I be able to say I’ve lived a good life as well?

As though she hears my thoughts, my gran brings up a memory from years before I was born. She goes into storytelling mode and we settle in to hear the compelling memories.

My gran takes us on adventures from childhood shenanigans to teenage angst and through adult responsibilities. Her voice draws us into her land, and my grandad chimes in when it gets to a part that he knows.

In my chair, I feel as if they have transported me back to their time. The stories playing out in my mind as if I was an observer. 

Maybe I was in some shape or form.

Laughter escapes us at the funny detail just revealed, and I take a closer inspection of the two people that have been the most consistent in my life. I listen with half an ear as my thoughts occupy the frontal space of my consciousness.

Again, my thoughts backtrack to my initial reflection. As they speak about their younger years, I think about my short twenty-something life.

Would I be the person I am today without these two gracious people in front of me? I love my family very much. But at the heart of it, with everything that has occurred in that brief span of growth, they have stuck by us with no questions asked.

As time goes on in our darkened reprieve, it becomes more of my grandparents reflecting on their lives than reiterating stories for my benefit. I become a silent observer and admirer of the lives they’ve lived, of the love that they have for one another and their little family.

They’re not perfect, and their marriage certainly wasn’t. They will be the first ones to admit that. 

“No one is perfect”, I would often be told. It’s very much true. I’m certainly not the perfect person. There are faults and insecurities within me, but they love me despite that. I guess that’s the key lesson they have taught me in life. It’s loving someone’s imperfections rather than their perfections that make us human.

Jumping out of my contemplation, I bring my attention back to the present. The power is still out, not much we can expect from that. Though the flickering candles have nearly burned out, casting us back into semi-darkness. The light from the gas lamp still guides us through the night.

The dimming light creates shadows across all our faces -the young to the old, the vibrant to the everlasting souls. I listen again with an eager ear and a hungry mind, trying to gain as much knowledge from their wise minds before time is up. There’s no race to be won, no clock ticking down; but in the setting's gloom, I feel it.

I feel that need to know all the details, to drink up all the memories and to witness the fondness. No one knows what tomorrow brings. As much as we pray for a new day, a new hope, we don’t physically know that tomorrow will come. So for this brief interlude of our everyday lives, I will be selfish and hold on to all that I can.

I get up from my comfortable seat and search for a deck of cards. This is like a tradition for us when there’s no power. My gran and I will play cards with my grandad observing or helping. We settle into stillness as I shuffle and deal out the cards. The games differ from time to time but on this night; we agree on rummy. Neither of us remembers how to play so we turn to my grandad to explain it for the umpteenth time. Doing the little laugh that he commonly does at our expense, he explains the game as we play. Slowly but surely, the rules come back to me. They make their way to the forefront of my mind and push my earlier thoughts to the back.

As we finish the first game, the lights flicker back to life and the mood changes again. Suddenly it feels as though there’s a rush in the air. We move to blow out the shortening candles and turn off the filtering gas lamp. Eventually the only light on is that from the electricity coursing through our house. With the candles and lamp being put away, gone is the reprieve from reality. 

We all go about our nightly routines separately. What once was three as one is now three different people living as a unit.

In the blink of an eye, I find myself in bed and slowly giving in to the dreamland. The thoughts and stories run through my mind again and I am sure I’ll have sweet dreams with those. Knowing the stories are true and form a part of my history, I finally slip away into the side of unconsciousness.