How It All Went Down - Part III

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Christmas morning.

My husband rose before I did.

"Time to do it again. It's like Groundhog Day," he said as he pulled on his clothes. He was thinking of the Bill Murray movie where he is trapped on February 2 for a very long time.

I lay beneath the covers, not willing to brave the chill. I finally pulled myself out from under the covers and grabbed my robe; it was as cold as the house.

Ice had formed on the windows in the bedroom overnight; we were running a small humidifier off the generator. And the water had gathered on the windowpanes, where it froze.

I looked at myself in the mirror and ran a brush through my hair before I went to say good morning. I looked awful.

In the kitchen, I found my husband had placed a Christmas card at my place at the table. We had a breakfast of frozen pancakes heated in the microwave. 

After we ate, he went outside and gassed up the generator again while I rinsed the plates in cold water and put them in the dishwasher.

Then we had Christmas. My husband gave me an autographed photo of Melissa Etheridge and a few other things. I gave him clothes and a small George Foreman grill, because we'd tossed the huge one out a few weeks prior. He'd had a new hip and a new utility vehicle this past year; I didn't need to give him anything more.

It was over quickly, and the circumstances sapped most of the joy out of the morning. He had to bundle up again and head out to check the cattle and unfreeze the watering troughs. I cleaned up the Christmas paper, put the gifts back under the tree, and took another sponge bath at the kitchen sink.

By the time he returned, I was dressed. My chores were done. I was trying hard to find the Christmas spirit, but it was eluding me. This was stressful. This wasn't what we were supposed to be doing. I was worried about him being out in the cold and the wind, afraid he would make himself sick. He looked tired. I looked tired.

He left again, and I spent some time standing at the patio door, feeling the sun come in and offer a small respite of heat. It also brought flies, which have plagued me since November. I removed an empty water bottle from the recycling bin and began to catch the ones buzzing at the patio door - five in all.

I remembered a fairy tale from long ago called "Seven in one blow" where some guy, a tailor by trade, had killed 7 flies in one swat, and he made himself up a shirt that said Seven in One Blow. Everyone took that to mean he had killed 7 people. I think he ended up being a knight.

Nobody was going to make me a knight.

I went back to my chair and propped my feet up on a footstool. I didn't mention this before, as I forgot, but on Christmas Eve, the husband of my best friend who passed away last year brought us a footstool that he had made from the cherry tree from our back yard. I did not see him as he had simply dropped it off with my husband as he was out trying to keep the generator running.

Now I pondered the footstool. Earlier in the week, I had had a talk with my friend, wondering if there was life after death and if so, could she send me a sign that I would recognize as such. Was this my sign?

Several people texted me to wish me Merry Christmas. I texted back, trying to sound cheerful. All the while I was feeling very low.

We ate another lunch of a ham sandwich, and then my husband said he was going back out after more gasoline. By this time, we figured we were spending about $65 a day to keep the generator running. The battery for my car had cost over $200. This was becoming an expensive weekend.

My husband left, and I cleaned up the lunch mess. Then I looked at the wall where I tape the Christmas cards. I wanted to yank every one of them down and then tear the Christmas tree down and put it all away.

Just as my hand moved toward the first card, the phone rang. 

"There's a bucket truck in Lanetta's driveway!" my husband exclaimed. She is our neighbor, and the line was broken not far from her entrance.  "You need to turn everything off, throw the breakers, and turn off the generator. I'm at the gas station."

Our cousin had called him and told him the power company was here, he explained as I raced around the house turning off everything so I could throw the breakers. But which breakers? Out in the garage, faced with a barrage of cords and a breaker box that I never deal with, I had no idea what I was doing. He tried to tell me, and I started to cry.

"I don't know anything about this stuff, you have never showed me how to do this," I wailed.

Finally, I figured out which were the main breakers to turn off, and then I went outside, coatless, gloveless, and hatless, and turned off the generator. Since we were backfeeding the generator into the house circuit breakers, there is always a risk to the linemen if you leave the generator running.

The silence that came over everything when I turned off the generator was almost as deafening as the generator itself. I went back inside to sit and wait. I bundled up in a blanket and picked up a magazine.

My friend T. texted me. "We're coming over with food," she said, not giving me a choice.

She and her husband arrived while the power company was still working. She came in bearing brussels sprouts, mashed potatoes, biscuits, ham, and hot chocolate. She gave me a big hug and a kiss but didn't stay long because she had company.

I was more than touched that she took time out to bring me something to eat - I wept again after she left, partly with relief and partly just because it was that kind of day.

At 2:30 p.m., the lights came on. 

The power was restored on Christmas day.

That night, we heated up the food my friend had brought us, and we ate like a king and queen. 

It was the best meal of my life.

Christmas had come and gone, and it certainly had not been the festive event I'd anticipated. But I was loved and cared for, and safe in my house with the fellow I've been with for 39 years.

I knew who my friends were, and who cared if I froze or not. That was a great gift, wasn't it?

Next year, I will read back over this, and laugh.

-End-