My Special People.

Every night, every day, every week: candles lit on the table. It was the constant, the norm, the un-remarkable. Of course, candles on the table. "Christina, please light the candles" was my Tuesday night task, following the table setting and prefacing the prayer giving.

Candles. The norm. At home. At the table.

It wasn't until college that I realized, it wasn't the norm. That having candles lit at the dinner table every night was instead, an anomaly.

I leaned over the counter, trying to glean her wisdom and understand her perception,thoughtful intentionality, and meaningful tradition. Before, I had always seen it as a task, a setting of the table - the candles. But now, I grew to recognize the art of candles as my mom, as personal.

"Why do you light candles?"

And I'll never forgot her response:

"Because people light candles for people that are special to them,

and you're my special people."

My special people. Ah, warm sigh. My special people. My mom.