It was a casual moment in the kitchen, during "Dance Me to the End of Love", when my throat closed up and I felt deeply, deeply--for the first time since Cohen's passing--a profound wave of grief. 

I wept, briefly, unexpectedly, a towel in my hands, a flurry of activity around me..

The time the lights went out

I think it's clear now that northeastern Ontario / Quebec simply has it in for us. Everyone remember the story of Quebec?

Well.

We rented a beautiful cottage in Frontenac. On the lake, we said. In the sunshine, we said. Early December. 

What can happen.

Well...

We had a lovely drive, despite leaving late, despite taking the longer / scenic route (against my wishes), despite getting on the highway (on my request--"let's not get there in the dark"), despite promptly getting off the highway after being met with absolutely torrential rain (again on my request--"Jesus Christ, let's just get there alive"), and finally, despite getting there in the dark (see above). 

We opened the doors to a gorgeous, roomy, and--most importantly--impeccably clean cottage. We turned on all the lights. We unpacked all the food. We turned on the oven. 

Some of us used the bathroom.

Forty minutes later, all the lights went out.

In a moment of panic, the city girl that I am wondered whether we had caused a power surge by "turning everything on" until the electrical panel proved otherwise and until the cottage owner suggested (via text) that strong winds had likely caused a power outage in the area.

Hmm.. ok, well, we can do this. Right?

We continued cooking on the--thankfully--gas stove. We lit all the candles we could find. Aha, I brought the "good" flashlight exactly for this reason.

Then, whatever water pressure we had accumulated in our 40 minutes of power gave out.

Then my flashlight gave out.

Then it got... pretty cold.

Then it got... really cold.

The final insult came when we lost cell reception at exactly the moment we were supposed to receive the code to unlock the wood-burning stove--incidentally, also at the moment we discovered that those of us who were supposed to arrive tomorrow did not have the address (how?? why?? how??).

Thereafter followed some couch huddling in the pitch black of a rural 6:30pm and a frantic couple of hours where, during every little blip of reception, a gazillion messages were sent:

- This is the address!

- Don't leave home until we call you!

- We don't have running water! 

- Just don't leave home! We'll explain later!

However: We did have a pleasant, candlelit dinner. We told stories. We laughed. One of us had an excellent construction flashlight that did not give out. The rest of us managed to use the bathroom by filling the remaining tanks with our drinking water. Most importantly, with the help of our winter coats and many, many warm blankets, we survived a frigid night and morning. 

We woke, as we did during our last escapade, to a stunning, pristine view. 

And, again, we had a beautiful drive back home.