Let There Be Light

Bill and I were sitting on the couch in the Arizona Room watching the local morning news when it happened.  We glanced at each other and in one voice said “someone hit a pole.”  In Sun City, this happens more frequently then you might think.  Just the other day, on the way to the grocery store, we saw a 30 foot metal light pole laying on the ground next to the road, the bottom 4 feet bent at a 45 degree angle from the rest of the pole.  This is the second light pole to bit the dust along this stretch in the last 3 or 4 months.

Bill found a flashlight, lit a Christmas candle, and retrieved his cell phone and a phone book to call the electric company.  Once he got through, as we suspected, there was a recorded message that there had been an “accident with injuries” on 99th Avenue and the outage encompassed a square mile and would be fixed within a couple of hours.  So there we sat, grateful that he’d managed to get a pot of coffee brewed before the power failed, and silently hoping Mom would sleep late so she wouldn’t have to maneuver around in the dark.  Oh well, lucky on one hand – not so much on the other.

She came into the Arizona Room at 6:50, ricocheting her walker off the door frame as she came out of the kitchen and repeating the process as she hung a right into the Arizona Room.  She then proceeded to smash into the entertainment unit, swerve left in a quick recovery move, only to scrape along the edge of the coffee table, then rebounding off the ottoman in front of the single armchair in the room before finally coming to a stop.

“It sure is dark,” she commented, stating the obvious as she plopped down on the ottoman.  “Is the electric off?”

“Yup,” I said.  “Someone hit a pole or transformer on 99th.  It should be on by 8:30.”

“Well that’s good because it’s staying dark longer so we won’t have any sunshine until later this morning,” she said.

“The sun should be coming up in another 15 or 20 minutes,” Bill replied.  “But it’s still cloudy and raining so there won’t be much light.”

“Well that’s because the shortest day is December 21st, so it’s staying dark longer and longer,” she commented.

“But the clouds don’t help,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter.  A short day is a short day,” she reasoned.  “After the 21st it’ll start getting light sooner again.  Until then the mornings are just darker and darker.  It doesn’t seem to matter what time the sun comes up.  It’s probably because we don’t go on Daylight Savings.  It’ll be nice when the mornings are light again.”  She lifted herself off the ottoman after a couple of rocking false starts and headed in the general direction of the kitchen.  “I’m going to get orange juice and a flashlight.  Do you need anything?”

“Just a vacation,” Bill mumbled.

“And maybe some vodka for the OJ.” I added with a sigh.

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