@FrancoJTorres

This past Friday, San Antonio was hit with one of those sudden, heavy thunderstorms that seem to come out of nowhere. The kind that turns the sky dark in the middle of the afternoon and reminds you just how small you are compared to nature. More than 112,000 homes and businesses lost power across the city, and we were among them — almost two full days without electricity in the middle of August.

It’s amazing how quickly life becomes uncomfortable when the things we depend on every day suddenly disappear. No air conditioning, no fans, no lights, no fridge, no Wi-Fi. Just heat, humidity, and the realization that modern life is built on a quiet, invisible infrastructure we rarely think about.

Those two days were long. The house felt like it was holding onto every degree of heat. Even simple things — making food, staying cool, trying to sleep — became challenges. And while we were fortunate enough to get our power back eventually, there are still people across the city waiting for theirs to return. I’ve been thinking about them a lot, hoping they get relief soon.

At some point during the outage, I found myself thinking about the people who came before us — the generations who lived their entire lives without electricity, air conditioning, refrigeration, or any of the conveniences we consider basic. They worked, raised families, cooked, traveled, and survived in conditions that would feel almost unbearable to us today. Two days without power was uncomfortable, but for them, that was simply life. It made me realize just how good we have it, and how much of our comfort comes from technologies we didn’t invent, but benefit from every single day.

And when the power finally came back on, the difference was instant. The house cooled, the lights returned, and everything felt normal again. But the biggest surprise was last night — I slept better than I have in a long time. After two nights of tossing and turning in the heat, that first cool, comfortable sleep felt almost luxurious. It wasn’t just rest; it was relief. It made me realize how even something as simple as a good night’s sleep is tied to the modern comforts we depend on every day.

Losing power didn’t just disrupt the weekend — it reset my perspective. It reminded me that gratitude isn’t only for the big things. Sometimes it’s for the hum of an AC unit, the glow of a lamp, the quiet reliability of a refrigerator, or the simple comfort of a cool room after a long day. And it’s also for the people who built the world we get to live in — the innovators, the workers, the generations who endured harder lives so that ours could be easier.

I’m glad the lights are back on. I’m glad the house is cool again. And I’m grateful — really grateful — for the everyday conveniences that make life feel steady, livable, and comfortable. We don’t notice them until they’re gone, but maybe we should.