Jess,

Christmas is approaching, and I am remembering that year in grad school when you, Savage, and I made candles to give out as gifts. We set out for the Eugene Ace Hardware, where I learned two things: that they are wise and have a great kitchen section, and that you know how to have PVC pipe cut into segments to make candle molds. It was a stroke of ingenuity on your part that I couldn’t help but admire. I can jerry-rig most anything, but I had clearly met my match and then some.

We melted the wax and made the candles, and they were fine and beautiful. They stood in smooth pillars—nice to touch—and were accented with pine needles along the top. I saved some for Elisabeth and I and gave the others to my parents.

They burned so nicely, a flicker, and then a pop, and then a blaze, and then what some might call an actual fire. As the melting wax pooled at the top, it carried the pine needles to the wick. I was secretly delighted by the candles’ antics. Still, I had to call my parents and advise them to admire the beauty of the candles…but please don’t light them.

There is no metaphor here, no Quammen-style synecdoche that withstands scrutiny or speaks to larger truths. Only, thinking about that story somehow got me to here: life is beautiful and unexpected. It is also sometimes hard. I am richer for having you in my life. I am thinking of you and love you.

Jenny