This is the Coffee I was writing on Monday when the electricity decided to hibernate. It gives you an idea of the storm. I will write another later today.

The end of the world is nigh. The snow continues. The weatherman calls it a bombogenesis. The snow is so wet and heavy branches are strewn about on the deck and around the yard. The dogs couldn’t get down to the backyard. A giant piece of the trunk of the pine tree by the back steps has broken off from the top of the tree and is covering the steps to the backyard. I tried to remove as much of the tree from the deck as possible, but the trunk is too heavy. I went to a backup plan I didn’t know I had and let the dogs out front without a leash. The snow is so high they had to jump to move. They stayed in front, but I lost them a bit so I don’t know if they peed or not. Henry came to the door first then a bit later Nala wanted in.

The wind is loud. It roars. The branches creak and click. Some brush the house. The pine trees especially can’t abide both the wind and the heavy snow. Their branches break and fall. The larger ones crash. The dogs sit up with ears perked, but it gets quiet quickly, and the dogs go back to sleep.

Last night was the worst. The nor’easter raged and the wind blew the snow sideways. The electricity went off four or five times for a minute or two. Each time it did, Henry shook. The sudden darkness scared him. He came to me so I hugged him through the fear. When the electricity went off, so did the cable. It disconnected from my network. I had to find the network and put in my password every time, twice. The cable box read boot. I left the TV on last night, and, by morning, it had righted itself.

When I went to bed, the dogs were right beside each other on my side of the bed. I left them there and slept on the other side. I didn’t read as I was afraid the light over my bed would suddenly darken and scare Henry again. When I woke up, he was stretched right beside me, something he never did until last night. This morning the light has been flickering, and every time it does, Henry growls. I’ve just turned off the light.

As long as we have heat and electricity we’ll be fine. The larder is filled. The pets have plenty of food though Jack will suffer. His treats weren’t delivered. As for me, I still don’t have any Snickers.

Oops, the lights just went off!

A nor’easter is on its way. The weather service has issued a blizzard warning starting at 4 pm today and extending into Tuesday morning. The latest prediction is 12-18 inches of wet snow accompanied by heavy winds. Most of the schools are already announcing their closings. The animals, Henry, Nala and Jack, and I will hunker down. The dogs do go out, but I swear they do their business on the run. I have everything I need; however, I did eat the Snickers. I’m thinking I’ll make some brownies.

My dogs don’t drool. They bubble. Nala’s bubble is always bigger than Henry’s. When I sit on the couch and eat something, each dog stands on one side of me, sort of cornering me. I do share but in their bowls. This morning they each got a piece of my toast. I think they were also hoping for coffee, but I didn’t share.

When I was a kid, we didn’t know it would be a snow day until the morning when the fire alarm rang out from the station. No school was a special alarm, its own alarm. We’d still be in our pajamas hoping. We’d listen to the alarm and count. We’d cheer. I think my mother grimaced.

Sunday was always a quiet day. We went to mass. Some times we’d ride with my dad, the usher, but mostly we walked. My father often brought home donuts. He was a plain donut man. He’d slather his donut with butter. Dinner was the special meal of the week. Every other day we had supper. On Sunday we had a roast, mostly chicken or beef. We always had mashed potatoes and some veggies. Corn was a favorite, kernel corn.

Before I left for Ghana and the Peace Corps, my mother asked what I’d like her to make for my last dinner home. I didn’t need to take any time, roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes and LeSueur peas from the can. It was a quiet dinner with small talk filling the spaces. It was quiet enough to hear the clinks of forks on plates. I was excited and nervous. They were worried. I left the next day. My father drove my mother and me to Logan Airport. It was nearly two hours away. We didn’t talk a lot, didn’t want to trigger the emotions we were barely holding back. I remember saying goodbye at the gate. We hugged. When I turned for my last look, my mother gave me a tiny wave. That is what I most remember.