She struck the match. And held it up a moment. In the darkened room, it's flame swayed ever so slightly. She tilted a votive candle toward the flame until the flame passed to the wick, struggling for a moment but then reaching high and slendor.
She set the candle down in its holder, the one her mother had given her years ago, one that had been passed down from her grandmother, it's ornate silver base twisting upward like roots of a tree. It's still had remnants of last year's candle, a melted flow that ran down the sides. She picked at those pieces, breaking them off and dropping them into the new flame and the pool of watery wax that had now formed below it.
Another year had passed. She hung her head and closed her eyes. How old would he be now? It was a silly question she knew. He would be fifteen. Prime of his teens. A man of sorts. She knew his age as well as she knew her own age, as she knew her own name.
What was his name? That she didn't know. At least not what he might be called today. She held her arms together, imagining his tiny body cradled in her love...
She set the candle down in its holder, the one her mother had given her years ago, one that had been passed down from her grandmother, it's ornate silver base twisting upward like roots of a tree. It's still had remnants of last year's candle, a melted flow that ran down the sides. She picked at those pieces, breaking them off and dropping them into the new flame and the pool of watery wax that had now formed below it.
Another year had passed. She hung her head and closed her eyes. How old would he be now? It was a silly question she knew. He would be fifteen. Prime of his teens. A man of sorts. She knew his age as well as she knew her own age, as she knew her own name.
What was his name? That she didn't know. At least not what he might be called today. She held her arms together, imagining his tiny body cradled in her love...
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