by Kikue Rich

Complete isolation! Icy outside. I knew that because I went out in the late afternoon the day before to put some scraps in the red food bucket, and found it had iced over from the drizzle. “How come?” I thought, when the sidewalk had been free of ice. But the walk back to my apartment after the brief moments’ attempt to be rid of the garbage meant a creep back with each careful step on a sidewalk that was beginning to glaze over. Back in my apartment, in the midst of texting my granddaughter, Maia, my cell phone went out. No power… no light… no email… self isolated because of the COVID virus…no way to communicate with anyone… my land phone useless because it, too, was powered by electricity. On top if it all, the ice outside meant I had to stay put in the apartment. It was a novel experience, and for a moment it felt like being shut in a white-walled box with nothing to think about because there was nothing to react to on the white walls. But then, I thrive on new experiences.

Fortunately, I had asked Maia to shop for D batteries to power up the camping lights just in case of an emergency… but I had procrastinated and I needed to figure out the where and how to replace the batteries and complete the task in the dimming daylight. That done, I dug out a second quilt on top of the comforter and crawled into bed with a hand flashlight to read with and a couple of extra D batteries handy… just in case. The camping lights, while good for general lighting, were useless for reading words in a book. Nine pm came, a bit early for bed, but I dozed off for a cozy sleep through the night.

Remembering living in Denver with the frequent tent camping in the Rockies, and waking up to freezing mornings, I dressed in layers… this time, in five layers… layers of synthetics and wools… nothing bulky except for the last layer, which I could change depending on the chill I felt. According to the “atomic” clock, the temperature in the apartment read 53 degrees (it also gave time and date) and I was glad that the apartment had been weather proofed and insulated to keep out the freezing cold. I searched for candles but I had left my supply before moving into Rose Villa, thinking of them as possible fire hazards. Finally I found three: a Christmas gift and some votive candles. I placed them in small Corning ware containers on the stove for nothing more than the comfort of candle light in the early morning.. and hour later, checking the clock, the temperature had risen to 54 degrees and I extinguished the candles in the increased daylight to save them for evening use.

I yearned for something warm… thinking of the family Christmas eve suppers of fondue warmed over a can of Sterno, I wondered what I could do… thank goodness that at least Rose Villa had running water! I remembered the five day deep freeze and snow storm living 500 feet from a glacial river off Mt. Rainier without power for anything in the house including the water supply… but we did have wood stoves to keep us warm and for cooking. Concocting a substitute “stove” with a cookie rack resting on soup cans on their sides, I placed a mug over a candle flame to warm some water. Half an hour later, the water was warm enough to at least not be cold. Then, just as I was stirring a cup of lukewarm coffee, there was a knock on the door and there was Molly asking how I was and if there was anything she could do to ease the situation. My wish was for “POWER”; I would remain in my apartment, not risking a walk on the ice considering my agedness, and I was quite comfortable. Later when she returned with my cellphone powered up, I asked for a Thermos of hot water to hopefully last till morning. The power in my cellphone lasted long enough for me to tell my family that I was comfortable and grateful for the staff’s periodic visits to check, and to the dining room for providing a sandwich, supplementing the crackers and canned meats… and that from past experience of power outages, I didn’t open the refrigerator or freezer. When cooking could be done in the dining area, the hot meal at noon was a joy and much appreciated.

Tuesday with the warming temperatures I saw how the Power workers removed branches from the firs across the street to release the four drooping wires and return them to their taut positions between the poles. The job was completed just in time for the workers to miss the sudden, loud, noisy, and dangerous “storm” of falling two-inch thick icicles, thick ice slabs and tree branches falling to the ground and to the roof overhead. And in a short while, it stopped as suddenly as it had started. In the afternoon, with the sidewalk free of ice, I went out to North Main to pick up mail and to power up my cellphone, and was surprised to see the many people who had escaped the confinement in apartments of the previous few days. Rose Villa was alive with people milling about in the warm sun, more people than the two, three, or four I usually met on my visits for mail and meals since our self-isolation began with the COVID pandemic.

During the first return of power, I had enough time to email a son in New York. When I pushed SEND, the apartment suddenly became quiet and power was gone again… I wondered if that bit of energy to send the message had been enough to overload the available supply of power!

Later when the power returned with the buzz of the refrigerator and I was busily sending a text to Bend, it suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t have to continue to sit in the dark punching at the cell phone… that I could turn on the lights!