To Hold a Candle
Today marks the Winter Solstice. As part of her efforts to welcome in the Yule season this year, my wife decided to light up some candles. I don't have a problem with this. I like candles and the ambiance they bring. Much of the time, they are an utter delight.
But there is one in particular that I get a little nervous around, because if one of our candles is going to end up burning the house down, it's this one. It's one of those tall tapered candles, crammed into the top of this cute deer-shaped ceramic piece with vaguely wintery vibes that I'm pretty sure was never meant to actually hold candles. The opening at the top is incredibly shallow and an entirely incorrect shape, providing no grip whatsoever. The end result is that the candle has to be manually balanced until there's enough melted wax at the bottom to hold it in place. The exact point in time when the melted wax is sufficient is very deceptive, and I have seen the flaming candle take a terrifying tumble on multiple occasions. So I apologize if I am a little jumpy today. Even though it seems to be fine now, I still don't 100% trust it.
This made me start to think that investing in improved candle solutions for next year could—in addition to being an appreciated gift—just be a wise idea all around. And it was at that moment that a thought struck me.
"...Don't we have a bunch of candlesticks somewhere in a box downstairs?" I ask my wife.
"Oh, fuck, I think you're right," she replies, her eyes wide, letting out a single deep chortle of realization.
So she remembers it too. This collection of candlesticks that we got from someone, at some point, for some reason. All the specifics have been lost to time. It's possible these candlesticks were sitting in the middle of the otherwise empty apartment we moved into eight years ago and were just absorbed into the rest of our belongings. They somehow survived the purge of stuff we got rid of after we bought our house four years ago, likely through sheer determination of will.
Still, our basement is full of crap we're never going to use again but feel bad throwing away. I'm sure not going digging through all those boxes. "But who knows what the hell box it's in," I ask her with a shrug.
"I know which one it's in," she says. "It's the one I labelled 'Surprise Candlesticks'. "
...Damn if she isn't right about that.
I am not unwrapping the rest of these. I don't want to know.
Anyway, have a good Yule and wonderful holidays from all of us at Skep's Place (which to be clear is just me. Skep.)