I miss you.
For so long, we were bosom companions. From the beginning you were there to enhance the festivities, lending your light and warmth to the joy of the occasion, whatever it might be. You and your sisters delighted every year in the challenge of extinguishing your increasing numbers. You were game to sit for hours in the musty gourd at Hallowe’en for the pleasure of thrilling the wee goblins. Every December you lent your glowing warmth to Yuletide celebrations both festive and solemn, and you have graced many a dining table at our gatherings.
You were there when I was married and again as my children were christened and wed in their turn, and as we laid beloved friends and family to their eternal rest. You have accompanied me with my book, bubbles and beverage on my mini-retreats from the rigours of raising a houseful of boys and their father. You and your buddies could always be found in the kitchen drawer to light our world after a thunderstorm or blizzard had knocked out the electricity.
Is it modern society’s increasing obsession with excessive safety measures and the advent of the LED “candle” that has alienated us? Or could it be our tendency to bask in the artificial glow of our computer and television screens rather than the warmth of you flame and one another? I know I can count on you to be there when I need you, and in turn, I promise to set aside time for a weekly date. Let’s not wait for a funeral, dear Candle, to get together.