And the lights go out and the world goes silent.

I know this is probably one of the most absurd things I can say, but I'm really going to miss power outages.

Yes, power outages.

I'm not going to miss having outages during class, or the feeling like I'm going to drown in my own sweat, or having the electricity go out when I need to work--but there's still something magical about everything suddenly going dark except the stars.

In one instant the world goes dark and silent. Fans stop thumping, lights go out, televisions stop, radios go out, and you're left with birds twittering in the trees and the hum of voices. Above, the moon shines, a luminous orb, and the stars are no longer obscured by all the light below.

There's something even more magical about writing or reading by candlelight, as the scent of cinnamon and honey drifts on the natural wind--I do so love scented candles. Then the candles cast flickering shadows and your flickering silhouette on the wall. If you press your nose to the window-screen you can—on a good night—smell the rain and the leaves in the trees. Suddenly every smell, every sound, has more beauty and more meaning.

I love electricity—air conditioners, computers, televisions, lights, and more. But sometimes I still think I was meant to live in a different time—a time without the rush of traffic, the smell of car exhaust, the beating of ceiling fans, the glare of light pollution, and flickering television lights. Maybe I was meant for a time when people wrote by hand, by candlelight, in silence late at night with just their flickering shadows to keep them company. And I catch a little glimpse of that when the power goes out.

But that won’t happen as often in the US. And as odd as this is, I’m going to miss it.