“I swear the century will change before he gets rid of that rust bucket. How long has he had it, twenty, twenty five years?” “Mother,” Cherie started reluctantly, “you know how I asked you last night about the moons?” “Yes, what about them?” her mother asked, careful not to burn herself as she put the bread pudding in the oven. “What are they called?” “Castor and Pollux, of course! Cherie, what is this nonsense?” she asked annoyed. “But mom, how come I never knew Earth had two moons?” “Earth? What is that?” Photo by Andreas Wagner
The Candle She kept the candle lit, so luck would find her, that's what her grandmother had taught her since she was a little child.
"Light a candle," grandma said. "Light a candle, so your heart is also filled with light!" Wouldn't you know it, that candle brought her many things over the years, not just luck alone: hope through difficulty, comfort in sorrow, joy in celebration. It warmed her hands when she was cold and radiated halos around beauty, so she could see it with her heart.
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Grandma was right, the best way to see beauty is with one's heart. "What are you doing with that candle again? Have you finished your chores?" her father admonished her, just so he would have something to say, and he looked for errands to give her, because he didn't understand the purpose of the wick burning day in, day out, so wasteful, really! "Women," he mumbled to himself, "you can't look for sense where the good Lord didn't put any!" and went out on the porch, a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She kept the candle in the window, and waited for luck to come. On rainy days she lit the candle twice, just to be sure, even though luck has no trouble finding you when it rains, you don't have to worry about it, it will find you 'cause it's yours, that's what grandma said. "What do you do with luck when it finds you?" the younger sister said, her large eyes wide open to reflect the gentle glow like two little porcelain saucers painted
