The neighbors' lights seem distant and dim.
A blizzard is slamming down upon us. We have blowing snow, lightning, thunder, and huge drifts.
My mind goes back to childhood, 1977, when a huge blizzard hit. We had horses at a farm about a mile down the road. Once a day, we bundled in all the clothes and coats we could find and went down to tend those beautiful animals. We broke the ice to find them water and fed them the oats and hay we had stored in the fall.
I remember walking to feed the horses in a huge blizzard. Dad got worried and started up the old Chrysler to come rescue us. Of course it got trapped in the huge drifts and we all ended up walking home.
Tonight I'm safe at home in town. If the power goes out, we have a gas fireplace to turn on. It's on right now keeping me warm so we can turn down the thermostat. I guess I am safe.
But the safety I felt back then, with my horses needing me and my father worrying over me, was powerful. When we got back home, my mother had soup waiting.
Tonight, the neighbors' lights, across the snow drifts and blowing snow, seem distant and dim.