Last night we had a lovely blackout. It lasted for quite a few hours, and at first the girls were scared, but we light candles, found flashlights, and mommy, through inspiration, I'm sure, had just downloaded some fun kid apps to the i-touch. We played and snuggled. We got ready for bed by flashlight, and that was a blast for them!
Russ came home, had a candlelight dinner, and then we talked and talked and talked. I had a candle, and my current crochet project, and we enjoyed each other's company like we haven't done so in a long time.
And just to get romantic, I had this feeling of bloodline, of tradition, as I crocheted to the light of a candle. I've seen the women in my family from years past doing just that. I imagined them smiling down on me, as I sat in my modern house, with all the comforts they never imagined, and crocheted to the light of a candle, and thought about my little family. And I thought about them, the strong, tough, exemplary women whose blood I have the privilege to share. They were there with me. One of my favorite books has this constant saying in it "windy nights, nights of the dead". Last night I felt it. I felt my dead with me. All those wonderful women before me, giving me strength. I belong to them, they belong to me.