Tell me, when will you come back ?
Say, at least do you know?
That all the time that passes, nothing happens, without you.
You left on Wednesday. In a gust of wind. Without a word. Without a text.
Suddenly, everything stopped. The lights went out. Since I’m freezing, I’m cold. I do nothing without you.
I live in an abandoned house. I live in a decommissioned house.
There is no more life. More heat, more images, more music. It is no longer a house. It’s four walls. Four stops. Four endings.
When you’re here, it’s the most beautiful place there is. Everything lights up. Everything is activated. Everything moves. Everything celebrates. It’s more than a house. It’s a stadium. It’s a heart. The start of everything.
I know, I know, I always took that for granted. I always took you for granted. I just had to press a button to get everything. A café, a department, the Beatles or Paris. All this at home. At fingertips. In my hands or on a screen.
Now, however much I weigh on the buds, nothing blooms.
It is always when we are left that we realize the importance of the one who leaves us.
I’ve never appreciated you so much as I have for all those inanimate hours.
You were the sun of the house. It is not a figure of speech. It’s true.
Glory to the scholars who have understood your functioning. Who understood your energy. Who brought you into our lives. They named you Electricity. Everyone has their talents. We should have let the poets baptize you. They would have called you Magic. Because that’s what you are. Magic. You make everything appear. The day in the middle of the night. You make everything work. From my bedside lamp to the city lights.
And besides, you’re green. Plus, you’re saving the planet.
Without you, we are lost.
I’ve known it for 50 hours.
Tell me, when will you come back ?
Say, at least do you know?
In any case, Hydro-Quebec does not know.
Apparently 80% of people were supposed to find you by midnight. What if I was one of the others? It always takes some to be part of the others.
Life hangs by a thread. To a thread crushed under a branch. To a disconnected wire because of the disconnected trees. Everything attaches to everything.
I know you can’t help it. I know you’ve done enough already. There is no button for the electricity to reconnect itself. It takes arms. It takes humans. They are at work. They work hard. It’s no use complaining. But damn it’s long. Is there a way, a way, to solidify the system? To make it less vulnerable? Especially since the Festival of Natural Disasters has only just begun. Sponsored by global warming, it is here to stay. Especially since Wednesday, the downpour of ice, it was small beer next to the big brushes that are coming. You have to plan, repair, maintain, improve. The superminister needs to better protect the kryptonite. The editorial is written. But what will change? If only we were as efficient as you, electricity, magic.
When you come back, for sure, I will scream! Joyful cry, yeah ! When suddenly, everything will start again, I will be all excited.
When I can take all the peel off my back. When I can take a nice hot shower. When the refrigerator is cold. When the oven is hot. When home theater is in action. I will thank you. I’m going to say to myself: it’s still fantastic, electricity. I will really appreciate you.
Then the hours will pass. Then I’ll get used to it. Then I will forget it. It will be back to normal.
However, normal is when there is a breakdown. What electricity allows us to do is not normal, it’s incredible. You can’t stop marveling at it.
We must live up to our ancestors who changed the world by making it electric. Imagine the effort. It remains to do ours so as not to miss any.
This was a love letter to electricity.
To human genius when it makes life sweeter, bigger, more beautiful.
Letter written on a less and less busy computer.
Tell me, when will you come back ?
For Easter it would be nice.
(How happy I wish you!)