After the Trust at Sea
She always wanted to be a candle person but she was afraid of the thought of her home catching fire. Her daughter admired her taste but didn’t mind them with or without her bubble baths. She couldn’t live without her laced dresses, though. She remembered her mother braiding her hair on steps from a house full of the sounds of other people. She couldn’t find consistency and wouldn’t mess it up if she attained it. She couldn’t tell if her best was enough. She couldn’t find where to measure it.
Her cream walls were spotless. The carpets were always dusted. They weren’t infested with the flustering media and what other people thought. They were comfortably austere yet the mother feared dying. Everyday she hung her overcoat, she felt a panging knowledge that she was neglecting something. She prayed that it saved itself so their lives could be spared but the feeling never left her.
One evening, her daughter purchased a set of red tealight candles that smelled gadarene. Her mother tossed them immediately into the Sea of Galilee and prayed the whole night. Her daughter sympathized with her for whatever reason she figured. Its absence remained and daunted her; she couldn’t get it out. She didn’t know how to invite it back to bless her own region. It attacked her with fear of abandonment and neglect. She lived that whole week crying. Her mother was as tense. But, eventually, a glory entered. It centered itself on their pale gold tablecloth. Everything else remained dark. The stark chairs consumed them. The mother inquired about her daughter’s day. She felt the instinct she couldn’t convey yet woke up with, it seemed to relay, was gone. They exchanged words and swallowed in silence while a single luminaria candle flickered between them. The Holy Spirit lived with them ever since.