booandbunny

This week I decided to take an approach to fiction that went back to those good ol’ days when I wrote on deadline: Timed and trim. I gave myself 30 minutes and 500 words. So when my time was up I couldn’t edit anymore. (Hope there are no typos!)

It wasn’t a big deal that the electricity was out. It was 2 p.m. and they could see just fine to read or play a board game. The kids whined a bit about no TV. It was amazing to her how little they associated the need for electricity with the things they do every day. They just do them, and don’t understand that in real life something makes those things work. She’d never thought about teaching them this until these moments when the power was out. And she had never really thought before about how much electronic gizmos distracted them from things they enjoyed.

Dinner was interesting. Her husband suggested keeping the fridge closed, saying it would keep the food colder longer. It made sense, but it annoyed her. She hadn’t thought about the fact that, if the power were out too long she might be replacing hundreds of dollars in food.

So, it was peanut butter and jelly for everyone. They found some graham crackers and chocolate bars in the back of the pantry, even a few marshmallows that weren’t too hard. He had left a few logs under a tarp, so they had dry firewood, which was a blessing. It was early April and, though the daytime temperatures had been pleasant, the heater was still needed at night.

He got out his guitar and played while the kids tried to figure what else in the house didn’t need electricity. Ms. 8 realized that playing hair salon with her dolls wasn’t like a real life salon. It didn’t need electricity. They all got great new ’dos. And the boys discovered just how many battery-powered toys lit up and looked very cool in the dark. They brushed their teeth by candlelight and were tucked into their beds with extra blankets and socks on.

Mr. 6 had talked his dad out of some batteries and was quite content reading by flashlight. His sister did the same, but it didn’t take long for all of them to fall asleep.

Normally he might be online or watching TV. Or she might be. But this night, alone in front of the fire he grunted at the inconvenience and she again worried about the cost of replacing the food.

“It’ll be fine,” he said moving in for a kiss. And, instead of pushing away for concern of the kids coming downstairs she did something she hadn’t done in a long time. She let herself melt into his touch. It had been nice just being together, no distractions disguised as necessities of life. And there was no way those kids were going to walk around the completely dark house. She gave in and it was like it used to be, back in those days before kids, alone in that tiny apartment where they kept the heat low to keep the bill low. For some reason it felt more real than it had in a long time.

Real life is what happens when the power goes out.

// posted by HoBess @ 4/10/2006 10:15:00 AM