The candles’ light

POSTED IN Stories June 17, 2015

The candles’ light

It is a rainy evening and her thoughts as always are running wild. Dark outside, dark inside (she left the lights off in purpose), only the candles’ light makes Chinese shadows on the walls. She spread candles everywhere, even on the balcony. It’s beautiful. It feels warm, peaceful. Funny thing the candles’ light; she smiles while remembering how the candles and she went hand in hand her whole life but in totally different contexts than now. Back in her childhood and youth she used to write her home works, or she conceived her master thesis using candles’ light, because there was no light.  No electricity, no water, cold or hot, limited amount of milk, bread, oil. She used to hate candles. Their light reminded her strongly of the darkness in her life. Because of the candle light she had to wear eyeglasses and lost her sight. Candles meant death or darkness. They were every family’s nightmare, smelly, intoxicating, not enough, necessary.
She never thought that one blessed day she’d surround herself by candles, listening to Chopin. She never imagined that there might be another part of the world where candles really meant light, the light of Christmas Eve, the light of Easter, just Light.
In her new country for the first time she saw people offering each other candles as presents, scented, colorful, healthy. Her first thought when she received a candle present on her birthday was that: “Heavens, am I about to die?”. That was the only thing she felt in her heart when she received the candle.
Of course, now, after so many years, she herself enjoys the light of candles. She buys them. She offers them. And yet, her mother did not fully understand it: “what is the deal with these candles, anyway”.
They still live in the Middle Ages there, back in her humble country. Another thought coming with a smile is about food. She likes to eat soy and tofu products very much.
To eat soy products then, in her childhood or her youth was the only way of living for average people.  Now she is joking about this, telling everyone that actually the dictator wanted to keep them as a healthy nation, not to raise their cholesterol by allowing them to use fat products in excess, or drugs like coffee and cigarettes.
And also now, when herself eats only soy food because it is really healthy and keeps her in good shape physically and mentally, she thinks that her metabolism does not recognize any other kind of food but soy. If somebody asks: “how do you preserve yourself so well? What’s your secret?”, then one single answer comes to her mind: “try communism for a change, see how it feels!”
Or “I am fashionably thin due to the lack of food in my country, in my youth”.
Thoughts. Will she ever be free of comparing the past against the present? Every moment of this present life feels like it was lived before, with the same intensity but with other meanings, other fights.
The candles are getting tired slowly. Their light now makes known shadows, shadows of her past. The dogs of her childhood, the linden-trees,  the clouds she watched for hours, laying on the ground, imagining stories in heaven.
The rain stays still: tip-tip-top, tip-tip-top. She wonders if there are people like she out there.
Somebody? Anybody who has the same obsessions? Same memories? One candle died. Scented. Time to let the song of the rain drive her to her nightly sleep.

Maria Magdalena Biela

2 COMMENTS

1. garnet says:

   July 3, 2015 at 08:09

   I love this story Mag.

2. Magda says:

   July 3, 2015 at 12:15

   My only Garnet, I allowed Life dictate me the stories and I am simply a scribe. Life knows better the stories of a Rose…Thank you for being always there, THE SOMEBODY I need to know that exists and shares the same thoughts as mine.