There is a certain easiness to living life off the grid. The power is out as Hurricane Irene charges up against the coastline of North Carolina. This certain easiness is highlighted with a quiet and peacefulness that comes when you are forced to turn off all electric devices.
I am in fact typing this on my laptop with the remaining charge that is left on it.
My son is napping on the bed, with the freshly washed and dried white down comforter I was smart enough to wash and dry last night when electricity and modern conveniences, such as washers and dryers were ticking away with the midnight oil. His body rests so peacefully. My milk, his muse, for sweet mid-morning nap dreams. His arms are outstretched and his calm poise pushes me up against this thick line of beauty.
I wonder what his adulthood will be like, as he perhaps types an essay on what kind of electronic device. Perhaps it will type itself when his son is sleeping and he is watching peaceful as a parent.
I wonder will there even be energy and what kind. Mother Nature, what will she have destroyed and what will she have restored. The wind howls above me in my home.
The sturdy wood of my historic home has been here since 1880 and has weathered many storms. I wonder where my son will be when he is my age, 37, in the deep forest of adulthood, stained with poopy diapers, messy floors, and chaotic schedules that just don’t allow for scheduled order.
As I embrace motherhood today, I feel the warm arms of Mother Nature comfort me, and I acknowledge my own struggle. And accept that life does have its storms, just as nature does.
But today, there is peace. Peace as I watch Benjamin sleep and make tiny fairy movements with his toes, as if they are dancing in their own electric storm of beauty. I am comforted that the fridge is full and food is ready. My husband cooked lots of spaghetti, mac and cheese for Ben and a chicken marinara sauce so delicious you wouldn’t mind eating it cold.
Life off the grid seems appealing right now. I hung the wet laundry, damp and stagnant from loss of power in the dryer. I felt powerful and resourceful that I could get the days chores done without power, without the electric churn of modern conveniences such as vacuums and blenders and stoves.
I have the power of family: my husband, son, myself and two dogs, warming this house absent of artificial light. The curtains are all open and natural light streams in. Opening another view to reflect on my life. Windows are open to allow the heavy, fast, surging breeze (if you can call it that – more like vortex sucking wind gusts but it does indeed whisk a breeze through the house). A sound and movement like teams of witches on brooms, magical in their delighted fury.
I sit here and pause. Elegant in my own reflection, illuminated by my own mother muse: Mother Nature and her daughter Irene.