“Sarah!” Mother called. “Please get away from the window. Close the curtains and come on out here in the kitchen with me.”
Sarah had her small, chubby nose up to the window in the living-room. She had her eyes peeled to the window for the past hour. It was snowing wildly and it was very windy. She was waiting for her dad to come home from work. He was already an hour late.
“Come on, Sarah,” coaxed her mother. “Daddy will be home soon.”
“But, where is he?” five year old Sarah pouted. “He should have been here by now.”
Sarah joined her mother in the kitchen. She pulled out a brown leather chair and sat down at the huge oak table.
“Sarah,” said Mother. “Daddy is probably held up because of the weather. He’ll be home soon.”
Mrs. Thompson frowned as she set a big bowl of homemade chicken soup in front of her daughter. She knew Sarah had a right to be worried about her father because she too, was worried. He only worked about fifteen minutes away from home, in their little village. He worked in a lumber yard.
“Here, Sarah,” Mother said as calmly as she could. “You eat your soup and I’ll call Daddy at work to see if he has left yet.”
“Maybe he is just tied up at work,” Mrs. Thompson said to herself.
She dialed the number to the lumber yard and just as she did, the power flickered off. She hung the receiver back up. Sarah let out a loud screech!
“Mommy! Mommy!” cried Sarah. “I can’t see!”
“It’s alright dear,” replied her mother, sounding calmer than what she really was. “I’m right here.”
Just then, the lights flickered back on. Mrs. Thompson knew that it wouldn’t last for long.
“Okay, Sarah,” her mother said rationally. “I don’t think the lights are going to stay on for long. We have to go downstairs and stoke up the fire, but first of all, I have to find the flashlight.”
“Daddy had the flashlight downstairs last night,” said Sarah. “He was helping me find my doll’s shoe that rolled under the couch.”
“Good girl,” said Mrs. Thompson, as she took Sarah’s hand and walked down the stairs.
Quickly, Mrs. Thompson put a couple of logs into the furnace, after she had found the flashlight. Just as the door closed on the furnace, the lights went out again.
“Well,” said Mrs. Thompson. “At least we won’t be cold.”
With the aid of the flashlight the two went hand in hand back up the dark stairs. Once they were upstairs, Mrs. Thompson found some candles and she lit one and set it on the table, in a little candle holder. There was a small amount of light in the huge kitchen now. The two sat down at the kitchen table and ate the warm soup.
“The soup isn’t too hot this time,” laughed Sarah.
“Oh course not, silly,” said Mrs. Thompson.
Just then, Sarah and Mrs. Thompson looked up from the table as the front door flew open and in walked what looked like a polar bear.
“Daddy!” screamed Sarah as she jumped down from her chair and ran to him. “You’re home!”
“Yes I am,” said the frozen figure as he took off his winter clothing. “I had to walk home. I left the car at work. The roads are a terrible mess.”
When he had taken his wet things off, he picked Sarah up and gave her a great big hug and kiss. Snow trickled down his nose. Just as he set Sarah down on the floor, the lights came back on.
Moral of this Story: