During the storm the power goes out so I sit in the old rocking chair and sing in the dark. I hold the dog and my flashlight. And as the small light bounces off the ceiling and walls, I remember other storms and power failures long ago when I gathered my young children close and gave them flashlights, “So you can always have light when you need it.”
“Whoa! That one was REALLY loud,” we’d agreed of the thunder.
“That was a BIG one.”
“Yeah.”
“Should we turn off our flashlights and make it REALLY dark for a moment?” I’d challenged.
“Yeah.”
“No.”
It was just a tiny bit of control in the blackest night as it poured and thundered and shot 
white stabs of lightning all around outside. We were not completely stuck. We still had choices, even in the dark.
Suddenly the lights flicker and the electricity comes back on.
“Look Suki. Power’s back,” I say to the dog, still rocking as all around us appliances beep to reset.
The phone rings. I drop Suki and run to answer it, annoyed to be leaving my memories so abruptly but eager to converse with a friend.
“Hello, is the lady of the house there?” I hesitate, stunned.
“No,” I say simply and hang up. For a little while longer I sit rocking with Suki and my memories.
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