I Don’t Light Christmas Candles Anymore

Earlier in the month, I was sitting on my window seat and daydreaming, watching the sun disappear behind the Sierra Nevada mountains. I had been reading a crime novel when I recalled an old family tradition. During the holidays, my mother would light candles and place them on the window sill. As I was growing up, I never knew the real purpose of lighting these candles. I always thought they were a part of decorating our house for Christmas, and my mother insisted that the candles helped Santa Claus see our home as if our tacky Christmas lights weren’t enough.

I became intrigued. The tradition of lighting candles dated back to 1171 when King Henry II conquered Ireland and persecuted the Irish who were majorly Catholic. The Penal Laws were created and prevented the Irish from practicing Catholicism, and lighting candles in windows was their way of practicing their faith in secret. On Christmas Eve, an Irish family would light a candle to signify their hospitality toward a traveling priest. The family would leave their door unlocked for the priest to stay the night, and he would say mass in exchange for their kindness. Three candles were commonly lit to represent the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Over time, the tradition was introduced into America through Irish immigrants, and the candles became a popular decoration during the holidays.

After recalling this childhood memory, I wanted to begin this tradition again. I went through my Christmas decorations and discovered two vanilla-scented candles which I placed on my window sill. Though my window still appeared rather empty, so I bought two more candles the following day. I lit all four candles each night, and I would often sit on the seat and stare over my front yard. My gigantic oak tree had finally lost all of its leaves, so I had a clear view of the purple mountains in the distance. The calm nights were my favorite. I would sit there by candlelight and stare at the stars.

The nights passed serenely like this until Sadie, my dog, began acting bizarre. I was sleeping calmly in bed when she pounced on me in the middle of the night. It scared me half to death because she never sleeps in my room. In the past, I tried to make Sadie sleep by my bedside, but she would refuse and retreat to the couch downstairs. I moved over and gave her the foot of the bed. She kept pawing at my blankets and whining, so I ignored it for the time being. When this happened on the second night, I heard what she was whining and barking about. There was a scrabbling sound coming from the roof, but I chalked it up to squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons, or birds. Our neighborhood is covered with trees that drop acorns, walnuts, chestnuts, or fruit like persimmons. The neighborhood is used to animals being friendly, and it’s getting colder outside. I wouldn’t be surprised if critters were burrowing around my house at this time of year. I finally locked Sadie out of my room.

However, I don’t sleep without my dog anymore. It was the week of Christmas, and I was going to bed after a long day of work. I crossed to the window sill and blew out the first two candles. I reached forward and grabbed one of the vanilla-scented candles to smell it, but before I could blow it out, I realized that the candle was already out. As a matter of fact, both of the older, vanilla candles had burned down to the wick. This confused me because both of the flames were still there by the window. That’s when I saw the large, orange eyes staring back at me and the smoky breath fogging up the glass. I don’t light Christmas candles anymore.