My Mother’s Candle

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The candle I have lighted next to my laptop is about 4 inches tall, about 1 cm in diameter, and has been lit in the past as evidenced by the rivulets of frozen candlewax that had dripped down the side when it was last lit. The candle is sitting securely in the grasp of a modest, short candleholder, which used to be silver and now has a patina that is like copper and dust. The candleholder has a pretty bow on one side. This candle is one of two – they usually sit atop the piano in our living room. The piano top is the repository of the candles, other candleholders (those that have holy pictures stuck on their sides) and statues or statuettes of holy saints. The candle is very sweet to behold. I have good memories of when the candle was lit. My Mom, when she would pray her morning and evening prayers, would light the candles and settle into the comfort of her chair or sofa, lisping wordlessly as she would pray to Jesus and her favorite Catholic saints. As I watch the candle, the flame doesn’t flicker much. It is small and almost shy, rising from the blackened wick. New rivulets of melted wax are starting to form and soon will run down the same path as the others. This is because the candle’s tip is slanted to one side. I really ought to light the candles more often – when I pray, and also to remind myself that even though my Mom has passed away, her spirit still goes on and that she is close by.