When the power goes out, everyone gathers up underneath me. Candles lit, we hold each other for a good long moment before everyone is calm. I make a mental note to buy a big battery powered lantern and decide a game of Crazy Eights is in order. I use a flash-light to find a deck of cards that the baby hasn't taken a bite from, all the while stepping over the dog who keeps manically placing herself at my feet. We sit at the big dining room table and arrange candles. Light is bouncing off the ceiling and fanning out over the room. We play two hands of Eights and lose ourselves in conversation about how unfair second grade can be. The baby is trying desperately to eat the seven of clubs. We forget who's turn it is. We run our hands quickly through the little flame and then dip the tips of our fingers in the candle. I pepper the fun by telling a story about a kid getting hurt playing with fire. We negotiate a group expedition to the bathroom and back. We eat cake. We attempt another hand of Eights. Every appliance in the house jumps on all at once and soon I am sitting among empty cake plates, finger prints cast in wax and abandoned playing cards.