Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Blissful Silence

I don't like the thought of losing electricity during an ice storm. I don't like the thought of frozen pipes or broken bones or food turning bad in a powerless fridge.

But I adore the silence. No one is out on the super-slick back road to my building. It's a dead end, which means the county will be slow to clear it tomorrow. If work isn't called altogether in the morning, I will be very, very late to the office, for sure.

But right now, there is just this pleasant calm that only seems to come during winter storms. I haven't spoken to another living being all evening. I napped right after getting home early today. Woke up around 6:30, a little discombobulated, but rested. I suppose I could have done some cleaning or laundry, but I just sat and soaked up the peacefulness. It's a rare commodity right now. A few hours without thinking "Is that check gonna bounce? Did I send that e-mail before I left today?"... what an amazing thing in its delicious simplicity.

No worries. No worries. No stress. No worries. Instead, I had a nice warm Midwestern dinner and decadently lounged in front of the boob tube. Got to see one of my big swoony crush actors camp it up as a mob lawyer (sans, alas, his lovely British accent) and entertained a handful of fantasies I've had since the mid-80s. Wondered briefly why I never sent him a fan letter back in the day. And laughed. I have this reputation for "reaching out and touching" folks via the Internet these days to express admiration and appreciation. And I've found that, if they figure you're not a loon - and you're well-spoken - a lot of folks will touch back, if just to be cordial and polite. Maybe he has e-mail...

Maybe not.

The local news is full of storm tracking mania. I turned it off. I can look outside and see the weather, thanks. Nearly midnight now, and the upstairs neighbors have quieted down. I'm in comfy jammies and fuzzy socks. Teeth are brushed and I should go to bed. But instead, I'm writing and listening to Michael Penn sing "Bunker Hill" through my earphones.

But you can't hide
You're lit from the inside
And all I've got to do is
Keep my eyes above the ground
To see you move around

Do I wish I had someone else in my household? Sure I do. But there are some nights when being completely alone is a fine thing. And this is one of those nights.

Later, I will pull back the blinds on the balcony and watch the freezing rain and snow come down on the silent street. A measure of peace in chaos is a blessing.

Here's to you, Mother Nature. Thanks for tonight.

1 comment:

Heather Meadows said...

Awesome :) I love the stillness of a winter storm. I haven't seen one since a few years ago when Augusta got one of its occasional ice storms. (The weather here is way too warm. ;P)