A power outage yesterday left us in the dark for several hours. It happened late afternoon, shortly before sunset. I used stored power and outdoor light as long as I could, writing on this machine (almost fully charged!) and sorting clothes — a long-postponed task — by an upstairs window.

But there came a point when darkness was inevitable. I did all those silly things you do when suddenly deprived of electricity, like flipping light switches. Then I lit a candle, played the piano and embraced the 18th century.

What sticks with me now is looking outside at the houses around us. A couple have generators so they don’t count. But the others were indistinguishable in the darkness. It was a blank landscape, deprived of familiar landmarks and human warmth.

How I’ve come to count on the porch light, the lamp in the window, telltale signs of human habitation. They keep us company in the dark. I miss them when they’re gone.