The thunderclouds rolled in. The thick wet raindrops fell from the leaves on to the parched grass. The melodic dripping of the rain thumping down was rhythmic plunk, plunk, plunk. I was sitting on the porch, rocking back and forth in my solitude when suddenly a bright light appeared in a flash followed by a thunderous crash and a crackle. I ran into the house to smell fried electronics, yes, the modem was indeed cooked, overdone, dismally burnt. It smelled liked overly burnt toast, the kind of toast that was forgotten at a campfire. It was just left there to rot. I felt my face crumple and my nose crinkle. I immediately reached for the phone only to realize it was dead. Strike two. Now I must explain that I live rurally, and I only get cell phone service on the top of the hill. So, I trudge to the top of the hill and spend the next 45 minutes speaking to our internet carrier. The long and short of this is, through many transfers, holds, and “thank you for your patience, of which I had little, I will get my modem overnighted.
The next day I wait patiently on the same porch for my modem to come. I think about poems “Ode to the modem” I have a funeral service for the old modem, I bury it in the backyard next to the dog. I wait; with bated breath I wait; the day comes and goes. No modem. I go to the top of the hill once again. I call the company that shall not be named. I go through the transfers, the holds. They state it unfortunately it will arrive next Tuesday. I tell them I paid to have it overnighted. They don’t care. They blame it on the shipping company, which is rot. I got my toilet paper, I got my medications, I got my pasta, I got my pasta sauce, but my modem is not coming today. It will not come until Tuesday. The house is quiet and bereft. We all are bereft. What will we do? How will we survive? How will we function? We are depressed, we are looking at each other, and suddenly the 13-year-old starts to sing a song, without music. We warm up to each other. We talk. I speak about my childhood and when we didn’t have internet. We read books and talk about them. We go outside and (in between the rain) we walk and run and occasionally go to the top of the hill and check our email. We played board games for hours. The 16-year-old pain in the neck son begs to play Yahtzee, we finally acquiesce. We made cupcakes and homemade frosting. Yes, we still have television, and watch some shows, but we have had more togetherness and creativity, the 16-year-old actually talked on the phone to people. I am not sure any of this would have happened without lightning striking. So, thank you in a roundabout way to that company who shall remain unnamed. Tuesday came and so did the modem. We hooked it up, everyone was battling for the password. We looked at each other, put our phones down. We asked the kids if they wanted to go swimming. They looked at us with their eyes bright and shiny, and said “Are you kidding? I have got to respond to 1000 requests! Yeah, kid, don’t we all. It was a good dream while it lasted.
Budding Author, Doctorate in Nursing, parent, wife. I have seen, heard, and felt love , pain, sorrow, and acceptance. I find experiences cathartic and research very interesting. I love people and I love making them laugh and inspiring them to live the best they can every day. I thrive on kindness , I love giving .