Wednesday February 12th 18.22
I thought I would make the most of the fact I am sitting here in pitch darkness, the power lost in the storm, the only light that from a single T-light, this house of many candles has let me down when it matters. A single ring of blue flame gushes on the hob so I can at least make coffee. Outside the wind pushes its breath to glass.
No light and yet there are still places for the light to get in, still flickers of life. The cat yowls from upstairs, mildy upset at the inconvenience, when the heating doesn’t kick in she’ll know true madness. The other cat is in the room because I hear the tinkle of her bell.The dog presses her warmth to me – always at her mum’s side.
What happens when the candle dies; what happens when the flame is out?
We are still here. We will always still be here. In one way or another.
I think of those knee-deep in brown waters – or worse, thigh-deep. Or worse still but I do not ponder in this enforced darkness on worst case scenarios – the eternal optimist. So long as I have animals close and a story that will live even when the light dies – then I am happy. I am me.
I count my blessings, too many for one hand. While the light lasts I can sit, grateful I can type without looking for the keys – and I can write.
And soon we will go to bed, snuggle for warmth and think about the night the storm came and we – we stood undefeated.
Blogged last night in a stormy North Wales.