Candles. Whether in Mason jars or crystal candlesticks, I find them evocative. The scents bring memories, both good and bad, joyous and sad. They serve many purposes, from setting the atmospheric mood to saving one's soul. Lord knows, my Irish Catholic grandmother lit many in hopes that I might find the road I was destined to follow and not the devilish one I'd strayed down for a time in young ( and yes, admittedly stupid) adulthood.
Candles that are lit to guide the way can just as easily be snuffed out by poor choices. They can be lit in remembrance and hope. Hypnotic in their warm glow, they can be a small refuge in our messy world; a symbol of serenity in the midst of chaos.
Light bulbs come in a poor second, to my view. I've had some adventurous moments as far as candles are concerned-setting my bedroom window shades on fire as a teenager (that resulted in the lock being immediately removed from my door, nosy little brother or not), watching my sister's hair sizzle and smoke as she flicked her long locks too near a piano candlelabra (fortunately doused by my quick-thinking boyfriend), and last but not least, using a voodoo candle purchased from a shady New Orleans shop that I used to wickedly place a curse on a world-class jerk (and yes, it worked-at least temporarily...).
Take a moment to light a candle this evening-just because-and wait to see what happens before you snuff it out. I'll be lighting one in remembrance of the one-of-a kind Evelyn to mourn her passing and celebrate her life.
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