Archives for: November 2012, 13
On October 30th 2012, the day after the storm and our first day without power, Jack, Hannah, and I went for an afternoon walk, assessing the damage to our neighborhood. Uprooted trees pulled up chunks of sidewalk and completely blocked the roads- one on our street, just a few houses away, but we encountered many more in our walk. Some trees had landed on cars or houses, although most landed between two houses or on the road. Plenty of houses needed roof repairs, though the overall damage clearly could have been a lot worse.
When it got dark that evening, it seemed way too dark in the house. We turned on battery-powered lanterns downstairs in my Mom’s part of the house, and lit candles upstairs, but nothing seemed to dispel the gloom. It was too dark to read and our eyes were straining uncomfortably when playing board games. Hannah and I decided to go for a walk. while Leah and Jack continued playing games with their Bubbie (grandma.)
That walk was magical. Our eyes quickly adapted to the dark, and the lighting felt natural, not dismal. We had to watch out for debris on the sidewalk, but there was very little traffic because most roads were still impassable. It felt more like a walk in the country than a walk in the suburbs. We didn’t get blinded by headlights from vehicles or floodlights from people’s porches. We passed houses that were gently lit within from candles and lamps; there was no harsh light anywhere. I don’t even think we passed any generators that first night.
When we returned home, eyes adapted to the moonlight, the candlelit interior was plenty bright. We played a few games of Boggle by candlelight and then went to bed, feeling much more relaxed than we normally did on evenings full of computer screens and artificial light.
It’s unfortunate that our experience wasn’t repeated on subsequent nights. We did go for walks, but clear roads meant we encountered numerous headlights. Many of our neighbors regained power days before we did, so we dealt with harsh exterior lights that ruined our night vision before returning home to candlelight. That one moonlit walk was an isolated, magical moment.