PEOPLE like my parents and grandparents, sister and brothers, cousins, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephew. Friends. A tall, bright candle for each of my trauma surgeons. There'll be so many flickering flames that my neighbor will call the fire department. All you candles… You know who you are.
And when the dust settles, I’ll light a candle for YESTERDAY. I wish to slit that “before” box open and let it know I haven’t forgotten. To look into that whirling confetti mess and sort through those old wishes. I wish to reassemble the pieces before they blow away.