What we talk about when we talk about cold

The overcast morning cleared up, and the wind pushed out from the mountains with a ferocity I had not felt before. 

However, dangerous storms and clear skies were a new combination. Around 11:15, everything blinked and died. Except for Percy and me, the house went silent. In a text exchange, I cancelled my hair appointment for that afternoon. The wind outside occupied all sound. Branches tumbled from the swinging trees. Dirt and sand flung into my face whenever I stepped outside. Each time I checked on the car, a new segment of fence fell around the yard across the alley. 

Branches fell everywhere but the bending of the trees proved their salvation, and every nearby tree stayed up. Blocks away, 100-year-old pines were pulled out by the roots. The noise was incredible. I kept expect something might fall on the duplex. 

Percy kept testing his desire to go outside, but the wind sent him back in every time. Around 3 p.m., the air went quiet. Overall we got off easy – no major trees down, no damage to the house. On the interstate, the winds pushed over several semi trucks. Across the region, wind speed measurements reached 107 mph. 

Trees, branches, wires and fences had fallen everywhere. Days later I would see a city map of where damage was clustered, and my neighborhood sat firmly in the red zone. I gathered up the branches in the backyard, and swept a pile of branches along the front walk and driveway into yard waste bags. Around 4, with the sun plummeting behind the mountains, it hit me that this week had the fewest daylight hours of the year. 

I had to prepare for a night in the dark. Living in a little stub of a neighborhood next to the school district headquarters and a middle school, which could stay closed and had no imminent need for power, I gathered my lantern, head lamp and candles in the living room. With power required for most items I could cook, I opted for a can of stuff grape leaves I inexplicably bought at Trader Joe’s. When would I possibly eat those, I wondered after I got home with them. In the increasingly cold house, the answer became obvious. 

In less than 12 hours, we went from 64 in the house to 51. Natural gas heated the water tank, so I could take a warm shower. But the warmth last only as long as the shower. I had to layer quickly. Percy stayed curled in the bed as I slipped out to the car. 

While I charged the phone, a local number buzzed in. with little contact from the outside. Was it he lady who cuts my hair? The electric company? No, it was some guy who wanted to read me a Bible passage. I don’t know where he got my number, but I sat too cold and frustrated to give him a second when he asked if I had a moment. “No I don’t have time. I don’t have power. That’s my concern right now, no electricity.” I could have been much crueler, but stayed brief and honest. 

The morning clicked off and I had little to do but read and nap. Percy stayed close. Six blocks away, my hair stylist had an appointment for me, which meant she had power. The restaurant next door was blazing compared to my house. I ordered a coffee and drank it without regard for its heat. Then I drank another before going next door for a haircut. Melanie kindly let me charge my phone while she clipped off a few pounds of my hair. She told me I could hang out in the salon and stay warm, but the daylight was slipping away.

Percy wanted out and we stayed out until it was too dark to see (for me at least). The temperature only fell six degrees across the second night. But 47 degrees indoors cannot be easily shaken off. 

I took a trip around the block. The traffic light down the street, turned into a four-way stop with endless cars queuing, had been restored that morning. Two blocks away, my neighborhood stayed dark. 

Some fences had been nailed back up, piles of tree limbs growing as chainsaws roared. From the back porch, the air ran thick with freshly cut wood. While Percy napped, I had to flee. I took off for Village Inn and had a large breakfast. But I couldn’t escape that the house stayed without power. 

I skipped over to a friend’s house for dinner. Four miles away, they had power the entire time. I could have gone over, but I refused to leave Percy alone in that cold house for long, let alone overnight. 

The coldest night yet loomed. Nine degrees - just saying it makes one feel colder. I was set to call the landlord so I could get into the second apartment and run a trickle of the water in the faucets.

As I turned into the neighborhood, the lighting of the school district buildings felt obscene. But the power was back. The motion lights around my duplex shone brightly, and stayed on all night. Not that I minded. I ran inside and greeted Percy, somewhat elated. He just wanted outside for a bit. The house heated up quickly. Yet I stayed cold. I have been ever since. 

When I was younger, I questioned how old men in Tennessee could wear long-sleeve shirts in summertime, when the temperature and humidity both pushed past 90. My friend said it was just an old man thing. That’s an oversimplification but mostly true. It’s a slowdown in the metabolism, from what I read. 

In my case, it’s the chill I cannot escape. The cold wormed its way into my bones this time. I’m not sure how long this coldness will last, or what steps will mitigate the cold. Showering at the brink of scalding won’t stop anything. 

I expect to hunger for spring a little more zealously, knowing the chill of powerless nights will no longer hold sway.