Her Light

She loved nothing more than lighting a candle.

Once her day of cleaning and tidying up after her two toddlers was done, she would light a candle. Sometimes scented to go with the scent of the fresh clean house or sometimes just a regular candle. Sometimes it was for no reason at all, she loved her candles.

Then as abruptly as he would enter the house, he would violently quench the candle. It was what he did, first job; before acknowledging any of the people in the house, before dropping his bag, before checking to see what she cooked for dinner. As soon as the front door was slammed shut, the candle was next.

She didn’t know why she would get so upset.

It was just a candle.

He just blew it out.

He constantly gave out to her for lighting candles and she could never understand why it bothered him so much. He made her feel like a traitor for doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

Why did she feel so empty, so raw, so scalded when he just blew out a candle…a silly candle?

Why did she continually light the candle when she knew he would give out to her and get into a violent rage?

Why did she feel so worthless after the quenching?

Why did such a small act hurt her in a way words couldn’t describe?

Why did something so small and seemingly meaningless on the outside not translate to a cut, a wound, a scar, something to show how hurt she was?

Did her bleeding thoughts and haemorrhaging emotions not deserve a physical translation to explain to others what she was going through?

The simple truth was that she loved the feeling the candle gave her even if it was short-lived. She loved the light, the beauty and uniqueness of each flicker so different to the one before. She loved the presence it brought to the house. She loved the peace and stillness that such a strong element of fire could hold. She loved the space it consumed making an empty space real and alive with a little light. She just loved it and felt so happy.

It took many years to explain to the outside world what a candle meant to her and to find the words to express herself. Today she wears beautiful scars with stories and learnings and risings. Today she lights candles all the time. Sometimes they quench of their own accord, but you should see her serious back up supply!

Her light is her essence, her being, her truth, her beauty.

Belinda @ B’inspire : 00353 87 9584430 : belinda@belindamurphy.com

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