Gratitude in the aftermath

I'm feeling a little guilty.

All my friends and relatives seem to be without electric power.

The power company says it'll be the end of the week before the system is 95 percent restored.

It seems that electricity -- or the lack of it -- is the new conversation starter in Richmond. "Have you got power? We've been living in the dark since Saturday afternoon when Hurricane Irene hit."

I've stopped saying I'm fine, that I'm making coffee every morning, using my computer, watching TV at night, reading without a candle. Under the circumstances, it seems unkind to say I have power.

It's true that I paid my dues during the aftermath of Hurricane Isabel in 2003. I was without electricity for two weeks. It was miserable.

My yard man -- whom I inherited from my late mother -- came by this morning with his grandson and his chainsaw to clean up the big branches that fell from the maple in the back yard. Lucky me, they fell all around and over the shed but didn't do any damage. It took the yard man and his helper about three hours to saw the debris into manageable chunks and leave them out by the sidewalk for the city to pick up. The pile is almost as tall as I am. Who knows when the city will come by to pick it up, but that's what they say we should do.

Bless my yard man's heart for coming so soon and doing such a good job. (He and my mother's 1942 Good Housekeeping Cookbook are my favorite legacies from her. He's a treasure, and the cookbook has all of my favorite childhood recipes in it, and even has a section about wartime rationing substitutes.)

Life, for me if not for my friends and relatives, is getting back to normal.

For that, I'm grateful.