MANY HAPPY RETURNS
Once there was a tiny flame who sat upon an elegant, tall, tapered white candle, in the middle of a table set with a deep, red velvet cloth. He had been born from the bright spark of a match lit by the woman of the house, and danced with happiness when he found himself at the peak of such a wondrous place, at the center of everything. He watched as the woman placed sparkling crystal glasses, polished silver, linen and fine china all around him. He saw himself reflected beautifully in the many facets of the cut crystal, and elongated in the polished silver, and he flared up brightly in gratitude to the woman, illuminating her lovely face for an instant in his warm glow.
There was a small boy who hovered near the woman, watching her at her work. He was very excited to see the little flame on top of the pure white candle, in its elaborately wrought holder, so high over the rest of the table. He tried to climb up to the flame on one of the chairs which surrounded the table, but the woman stopped him.
"But, Mommy, can I blow it out?" begged the little boy.
"No, not yet, my love, you must wait", said the woman, smiling.
The tiny flame grew a little frightened. Had the boy been talking about him, he wondered? What had he meant? The flame didn't want to stop dancing on top of this beautiful world, not yet, not ever. He trembled a bit, and the crystal facets flickered delicately all around him in response.
But soon the flame forgot to worry. There were other people arriving in the room, and they seemed so happy. They greeted the woman with kisses and exclamations over the beauty of the table, and the little flame flared up with pride, casting his light over each of their faces and over the rich fabrics they wore, satins and velvets and soft furs, all of which came alive with his glow. And who was this tall man, the last to arrive, who embraced the woman so lovingly? Gifts wrapped in the most gloriously colored papers were urged upon him, and the little flame realized that it was for the sake of this man that he had been placed in the middle of all this splendor. The tiny flame felt keenly his responsibility to the man, and he made himself as tall and as bright as he could. He saw himself reflected in the man's eyes, dancing as though the eyes themselves contained two lively flames.
Fresh flowers were placed around the base of the little flame's candle holder, and their fragrance wafted up to the tiny flame and entered into him. Exquisite! Then food came, served by the woman. The smells of the meats, and of the spices, and of the sugary cakes mingled with the scent of the flowers. Later came the fragrance of coffee, and sweet liqueurs. Some of the men, and some women, too, lit tiny fruit-scented cigars, and the little flame, wondering at the short flare of the matches, took their smoldering scent into himself, as the smoke curled up toward him.
But again, the small boy pointed toward him, and pleaded softly with his mother.
"Please, Mommy, isn't it time, yet? Can't I blow it out now?"
The woman laughed, stroked him gently on his silky head and said.
"No, my love, it's not time yet. Let's enjoy the light for now."
The little flame loved especially the sound of the women's laughter. It reminded him of the flickering of his own reflection in the crystal, and he did a special dance every time a woman laughed, so that she might see the shimmering beauty of her own delight. A "toast" was called in honor of the tall man, and as the guests raised their round glasses of sweet wine, the little flame saw the miracle of his own reflection in the ruby-colored goblets, each image of himself kissing another in a graceful dance of love. The tiny flame was so filled with love and gratitude at the sight of himself in all these fragile orbs, that he made himself as tall and brilliant as he could.
But the tiny flame was growing tired. He could no longer flare up as brightly as before. The people around the table seemed much taller than they had when they had arrived. Even the small boy seemed to have grown, and when the flame bent slightly he could see that he was indeed now much closer to the soft nap of the table cloth, and the delicate rims of the crystal glasses. Yet the boy still gazed at him with the eager excitement of before, when he had been dancing at the very top of his white candle. There still, in the boy's eyes, were two bright, flickering reflections of himself. And the tiny flame was grateful.
"Please, Mommy, now? Is it time? May I blow it out now?" begged the little boy, looking up at the lovely woman. She knelt by his side, put her arm around his shoulders and together they looked at the tiny, weak flame.
"Yes, my love, it's time. You may blow it out," she said. She helped the boy to climb up on the chair next to the table, and held him while he leaned across the velvet.
The boy took a breath and blew gently at the tiny flame, but he blew too high. The flame trembled with fear and tried to dance away from the boy. The woman held the boy firmly.
"You must try harder." She urged gently to the boy.
The boy leaned forward again and blew harder. This time the flame felt the boy's breath, sweet, cool, and soft. He felt himself leaving the wick to which he had clung, and tried to hold on a bit longer. Once again came the boy's sweet breath and now he was gone from the candle. He felt himself curling up toward the ceiling, slowly, beautifully. And as his molecules dispersed, joining others unseen, he knew he would soon be born to another woman's bright spark, on another special occasion, and that because of him, it would be made more beautiful.
Erica Chappuis 1995
