Waiting For the Breeze
No air conditioning? How can you sleep??a friend asks, horrified. I`ve just revealed that my family has decided to turn the air conditioner off and trim our electric bill.
銆�銆�"Nobody opens a window, day or night," warns another friend, whose windows have been painted shut for a decade. "It`s just not safe.?On this first night of our cost cutting adventure, it`s 30 degrees. We`re not going to suffer, but the three kids grumble anyway. They`ve grown up in 22-degree comfort, insulated from the world outside.
銆�銆�"How do you open these windows??my husband asks. Jiggling the metal tabs, he finally releases one. A potpourri* of bug bodies decorates the sill. As we spring the windows one by one, the night noises howl outside - and in.
銆�銆�"It`s just too hot to sleep," my 13-year-old daughter complains.
銆�銆�"I`m about to die from this heat," her brother yells down the passage.
銆�銆�"Just try it tonight," I tell them.
銆�銆�In truth I`m too tired to argue for long. I`m exhausted after attending Grandma`s estate auction. I toted home her oval tin bathtub and the chair I once stood on like a big shot behind the counter of her shop, packing chocolate and rolling coins.
銆�銆�My face is sweaty, but I lie quietly listening to the cricket choirs outside that remind me of childhood. The neighbour`s dog howls. Probably a trespassing squirrel. It`s been years since I`ve taken the time to really listen to the night.
銆�銆�I think about Grandma, who lived to 92 and still supervised Mum`s gardening until just a few weeks before she died.