Colorful Sparks in the Night (NCPA Anthology Submission April, 2024)

by A. K. Buckroth

As I became a new resident to the Deep Creek/Great Bridge neighborhoods of Chesapeake, Virginia in late 2021, temperatures were apt to remain steady for days at a time in the  27°F to 40°F. These temperatures were not so different from California U.S.A. However, they lasted longer and gave me an unwelcomed feeling.

The icy rain and frequent snow flurries affected my attitude in a bad way.  

Knowing my frame of mind had to improve, feeling like a wet rag would not help a thing. My former happy disposition did not want to deal with being a grumpy ol’ woman.

The coldest temperature I witnessed so far in Virginia had been 13°F. That was outside this particular day. I do not know what the temperature had been inside this 20 year old, one-story house. The thermometer did not work. This meant the heater/furnace did not work. Three days before Christmas the comprehension of this fact made my language abominable indeed.

The 45’ moving truck had been hired and paid for with a delivery date of today. I looked forward to seeing all the things I did not sell before leaving California: a solid oak dining table with its six upholstered chairs; a matching glass, wood and mirrored hutch; an antique travel trunk where I stored multiple blnkets and home-made afghans; and stuff, lots of stuff. Otherwise, I would have gone to a hotel – if I knew of a decent one – and stayed the night. Not only did I not know the area well, I did not know anyone. So, I stayed “home”.

Before 7PM, I began making more than a few emergency phone calls to prospective area HVAC businesses to get this generator working. These calls led me nowhere but having to leave messages. Such a PITA (Pain In The Arse)!

I decided to bake some bread to warm up the place through the electric oven. I became very happy that it worked. A good sign for sure. The scent of baked bread alone helped to uplift my spirit and warm the kitchen. No, I did not want to sleep on the floor in the kitchen no matter how warm that room became. As my thinking apparatus thawed a little, I remembered I had brought some electric heaters, three in fact.

I dug out the three different electric heaters that had been stored in a back room. Thank goodness I had them. Not too crazy about having to sleep with them continually running, I truly had no choice. One I set up outside the bathroom sure to keep that room warm. Another I set up at one end of the hall to disperse heat toward the kitchen. For cautious sake, I did not plug in the third. Two became my limit.

In a bad mood, tired, maybe a little hangry, I needed to go to bed. I fully clothed myself in sweatpants, a t-shirt under a sweatshirt, woolen knee socks, and another two queen-sized flannel blankets for my person did not put me in a warm, cozy, “welcome to your new home” good mood.

Yes, my bed is always set up comfortably but I could not sleep. Sure. I laid down on it but did not sleep well with the thought of those heaters causing a possible fiery problem. So many bad ‘n sad stories I have heard about using such machines in an effort to stay warm….

The following morning, my doorbell loudly awoke me. Who the heck and what the heck? at 7:25AM?

Slowly looking through the window of the solid wood front door, I asked “Who is it?”

“I’m Dan from Rescue Air Services. We got your voice message last night and I was sent out to take a look.”

“Okay,” I responded through the door window.

Not caring about my appearance, I opened the door into the living room, continuing to clutch the blankets to my chest. I was cold. Horribly cold. Chilly willy goose-bumps on the legs cold.

After he entered, I sure─as─heck closed the door. Brrrr….

“What’s the temperature this morning?” I asked as I looked at his dark brown winter beaniecovering his ears. His multi-pocketed work pants enveloped thick-soled black shoe-boots. His thick, warm looking, grey zip-front jacket with a hoody told me he was indeed a service man. Besides, the upper right shoulder label on his jacket read “Rescue Air Services” in bright red letters. I felt okay when letting this strange man into my home.

“When I left the shop at 7:15 this morning, it was 32 degrees. Supposed to be up to 38 degrees today.”

“Oh My Gosh!” I stated. Is this typical?”

“Yes ma’am. It sure is. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Nope. From warmer, California.”

A pause took hold of him. Looking at me with a slight grin or smirk, I could just about read his mind. Sure, this conversation could have continued, but I needed to scramble for a hot cup of coffee and he needed to check out the broken heater.

Breaking the silence, Dan asked where the heater was.

“In the attic, I said.“That’s where the sputtering and clanging comes from when I turn it on. I sure hope there are no ghosts up there.” He chuckled.

“I have to go get my ladder. Once I see its location and check it out, I’ll need to bring in my tool box. Would you please turn on the thermostat?”

“Sure can,” I responded and did so immediately. By the time he returned with his eight foot aluminum ladder, a hissing sound became added to the banging and clanging. WTH I’m thinking. What is this going to cost?

This lightweight, young man made countless trips up and down that ladder. I envied his energy.

Anxious to hear his report, I paced the kitchen and living room with a filled coffee cup I hand. After an hour and a half, his verbal report proclaimed “broken band blah blah replace parts blah blah blah to get some [usefulness] out of the existing system or get a new one.” I didn’t quite understand everything he was saying. In the end, he made it work. Happiness overwhelmed me but became overshadowed with uncertainty in the future.

Carrying his ladder to his brightly labeled company work truck, then his tool box, he re-entered my home once again but with a yellow invoice in hand. He explained what he replaced, what he fixed, along with the possibility of needing a new system. $450.some odd cents later, the heater began doing what a heater is supposed to do.

Unplugging each of the electric heaters, I finally climbed into my now-warm bed and slept for at least six hours. Sleep last night befitted an impossible effort, more of a task.

Awaking in the early evening, I was hungry. Very hungry. And for good reason having slept all day as needed. The contents needed for a fried egg sandwich and a glass of orange juice were readily available in my refrigerator. That particular appliance came with the house.

Yesterday, I plugged in and set-up the Keurig. I’ll be okay. 

As always, I felt better after eating.

Wandering through the house looking at the multiple moving boxes, I wanted to locate the Christmas Decorations. They were neatly piled in the back room near the back door. Having found them, my happy spirit awoke. However, not only did the Christmas storage items light my heart, but there were Christmas lights hanging on the back of the houses across the deep creek swamp 20 yards from the back of my house.

Looking out the back door window, I was in awe. Eight large, two-story homes had been engulfed in multi-colored Christmas lights. Their roof rims, their windows, their pergolas that I could see had each been covered in strings of beautiful lights. Overwhelmed and speechless, I felt welcomed to the neighborhood. Tears actually welled in my eyes.

The following Christmas these decorations did not appear. I hope to see them again. I hope to contact one of those neighbors across the swamp and learn of the story. In the meantime, I like to think the decorations were for my eyes only. So sweet. So lovely.

There is always a spark of hope. Something to light up your life.