Power

We are sitting in Haru, having a quick bite of lunch.

Haru is one of Jackson’s sushi restaurants. You might think eating sushi during a massive power outage is a bad thing indeed. So how’s this for crazy: Haru is one of very few places in town that never, ever lost power, even during the height of the hurricane. Monday, during the 90-mph winds, the lights didn’t even blink.

As has become his habit, Clyde fishes out his cell phone and calls the video store he owns. This has become a ritual; he does it a dozen times a day. There’s good reason for it: if he hears a click, followed by the characteristic squall of the fax machine, we’ll know power has been restored at our family business. If the power’s still off, the phone simply rings.

He dials. One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

And then, so loud that even I can hear it, the squall of the fax machine.

We scarf down our rolls, burst out the door, and drive as quickly as post-disaster traffic will allow to the store. On the way there, we pass our house. Hoping against hope, we tap the remote that opens the gate to our condo complex … and the gate slides open.

Power at work. Power at home.

We feel happy and guilty at the same time.