Musings(or ravings?) of an itchy 6 a.m.
The alarm goes off. The neighbor's car, parked so close to my bedroom window that I feel it is inside me, roars to life.
The candles are missing.
They were - are - the perfect candles for the candle holders. You remember - the wood candle holders on the mantle?
I put them away when I decorated the mantle for Christmas. The candles and antique holders and old family photos in frames all went in the same cabinet. Everything there last night except the candles, the perfect candles, short, fat, ivory, perfect on the mantle. Replaced for a few weeks by a gold garland and multi-colored twinkling Christmas lights.
I put the decorations back in their boxes two days after Christmas but left the mantle bare until last night. Everything there, except the candles, the candles that should be in the wood holders, one at each end of the mantle, next to the old faded photos in frames, one under the antique plates from Norway, one under the tiny water color of the Mathematics Bridge at Cambridge University in England.
Where are the candles? Searched Search Searching Will Search
They have gone to the place called "Lost."
The mantle not right without them.
Suddenly, nothing right.
"I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong."
The candles, the perfect candles, purchased so long ago from the woman at the crafts fair, cannot possibly be replaced.
Love,
Dumped First Wife
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