a summer memory from a september view

Our days Down Under made us energy-aware, so we did not notice it. The dinner table glowed with a natural turquoise light, family banter quickening as the sun died. So we did not notice it until, in the space between sibling laughter, my brother quieted us with a finger. “Listen!” The entire family lapsed into a concentrated silence, heads tipped a bit to the side in an added effort to hear what had caught Daniel’s attention. Silence. A minute hovered, suspended in the utter quiet of a world without electricity.
Outside, the streets shone silver without the muddied-yellow light of the street lamps. My sisters and I slipped silently into the night, settling on the front lawn with blankets to watch the show --- the world had come alive.
Without man’s light, the neighborhood turned to what the sun still gave; runners slip-slapped through the silver, a couple meandered in the blue shadow, and barefoot children danced along the pewter sidewalks. Every sound was muted as if no one dared disturb the natural silence. Naomi hummed softly to my right. Martha watered her newborn flowers. Up the street, night games continued with the joyful shrieks of Kick-the-Can. I began to appreciate this sound, the sound of silence. This true light, the natural state of the world, drew people from their dark homes. With the TV dark and the gentle whirr of the Mac gone, my house dripped with silence. Inside, I knew my mum had lit the candles, the flicker of vermilions and goldenrods fluttering along the kitchen walls. I felt the cool night air take over in the darkness, became aware of the smallest sounds. Without electricity, the senses come alive.
It came back just as quickly as it left us. Complete darkness fell for only a few minutes when the street sprang to attention again, dressed in showy golds and melting yellow. Every house winked back on, the street lamps lit up as a chorus, the porch light behind me illuminated our soft solitude. We gathered up the blankets, silent, as the show ended, and I couldn’t help but wish it happened every night, this fantastic call to arms. The world shook us awake, but only for a moment.