I was recently burning a candle that I had found stashed away in the back of my bathroom cabinet. I have had this candle since I was about 8 or 9. I got it at a shop in Arizona on a road trip, along with a chubby jar of nail polish that changed color in the sun. From red to yellow, back to red, and then yellow again. This candle didn’t have a container, it was a purple sphere with multiple layers of wax, the top layer containing a carved out insignia of hearts to reveal pink underneath. 

I looked over to the top of my dresser expecting to just blow it out, but it had fallen in on itself. The melted pool of wax warmed up the sides, they couldn’t bear to hold up the structure anymore. For some unknown reason I felt mesmerized, the light of the flame holding me in place. I remember begging my mom to buy me this. I can still see the blurry light coming in from the shop’s windows, along with the smell of an artificial coconut, sunscreen, and trees I can’t identify. Does this mean a cycle has ended? Was my inner child peering through me as I saw the flame putting up a fight to still flicker? Trying any way it possibly could to breathe? I almost wanted to mush it up straight and say ‘hey you’ve still got some life in you’. When I stood there for a moment longer I said to myself, so much has happened without me truly seeing it. I am twenty four now and I had forgotten about you for so long. Even through the neglect you stuck around in silence. And I know you’re not really gone when I have my unreliable memory. 

We don’t realize just how much something can shine when you allow it to stand still. When a memory takes over all you can see there is a reignition of hope. I hope that little girl knows all of the exploring she wants to do continues, and that her curiosity was never a burden. 

That her willingness to learn will always be her strength.