The power went out in my neighborhood yesterday. It was three-thirty in the afternoon when a transformer blew. Everything came to a halt. No light, no internet, no air conditioning, no microwave, no TV, no hot water for the shower, no landline.
I arrived in Washington, D.C., a bit battered and broken. The daily news twisting itself around my heart, making it hard to breathe.
On long drives, in the days before seat belts, my mom would put the seats down in the back of the station wagon, lay the suitcases out flat, cover them with blankets and pillows, and the four of us kids, lulled by the absolute darkness and motion of the car, would sleep curled up like puppies.
Unlike some people whose sense of home ends when they walk out their front door, not so for Judy and Dadla. Their sense of home extends to their entire community.