More than one million people in Québec (primarily in and around Montréal) have had a power outage this week. No hydro at my place means no lights, no heat, no hot water. I was out of town when the power went off. The first 24 hours passed. Goodbye to the perishables in the fridge and freezer. As the 48-hour mark approached, I was boarding my flight home to Montréal. I checked the Hydro Québec power outage map one more time. Still no power chez moi.
I arrived at home, no power, woke up on day three, no power.
Day three had clear skies, though. The sun shines through my bedroom window after rising above the rooftops of the neighbourhood duplexes and triplexes that are part of the architectural fabric of much of Montréal. By mid-morning, the sunlight moves one room over, where, on weekends, I often have my morning coffee. No coffee at home on day three without hydro, but still, I followed the sun out of my bedroom and into the room next to it. Sitting in the sun, wondering how much longer it would take the power to come on, trying to decide if I should abandon ship and make my way out to buy a coffee, since I couldn’t make one, I noticed something: the familiar light.
The comfort of returning home is often about sleeping in your own bed, not living out of a suitcase, having a kitchen equipped with what you need. What I noticed on the morning of day three without power, was that one of the things that I missed, having been away from home for more than a week, was the familiar light … when the sunlight appears, where it moves, the colours and textures of home filling one room and the next, over the course of the day.
It took more than 72 hours before the power came back on. Too long. But for some things, just long enough, maybe.
a few words ... from Montréal 