Burning scented candles became popular in the 1980’s, and very mainstream in the 1990’s with the introduction of soybean wax. I was intrigued by the wonderful scents and attracted to the beautiful colors and decorative containers. I bought a few candles and received some as gifts. I loved burning them and entering a room filled with fragrance. But I encountered a problem.

My husband had a bad experience with fire when he was a young boy. He believes that he and a friend caused a field fire. He was only five at the time, and was playing outside with his friend when some kind of mischief they were embroiled in caused the dry grass to catch fire. He said they tried very hard to put it out, but the fire was hot and spread quickly. So they ran away. I don’t know how the fire was eventually put out, or how much damage it did. I just know that to a five year old, it was a catastrophic event, and he was horrified and terrified. And later, terribly guilty. He wanted to tell his parents, but his friend told him to keep quiet. So, that is what he did, at first. But, eventually, the guilt was too great. He had to tell his parents, but how to do it? At last, he came up with an idea.

He laid awake, eaten up with dread, until he knew his parents were fully and completely asleep. Then he went into their room and said, “It was me that started the fire,”

His parents roused, hearing the word ‘fire’ and asked, “What fire? Is there a fire?” Now they were awake.

“The fire in the field. I started it. I’m sorry.”

His parents looked at each other sleepily. “You mean the fire last week?” his mother asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

His parents were already laying down again, heads on newly plumped-up pillows. “Okay,” his father said, “go back to sleep. We’ll talk about it later. It’s okay.”

With his conscience clear, he slept like a baby. The next morning, his parents never mentioned his nocturnal confession. He wasn’t going to bring it up, and I am not sure if it was ever discussed again.

So, because of this traumatic experience as a youth, my husband was extremely cautious about fire. He had an extra helping of respect for it, and the destruction it could weld. If I lit a candle and we were in the room, fine. But if we moved to a different room, my husband promptly extinguished the flame. Since we were parents of young ones and all we did was go from room to room, it was a candle-lighting and candle blowing-out extravaganza. It wasn’t long before I stopped lighting candles at all. I tried to change his mind, mentioning that there was nothing flammable around the candle flame, but he would respond with a barrage of, ‘this house would go up like a tinderbox’, ‘spread like wildfire’, ‘only takes a second’ and the like until I had to give up. And I had to admit he had a point.

Now that my husband is gone, I could burn candles in every room, but I don’t. I still use them when the power goes out, but that’s it. I lived this long without candle fragrance wafting through my house, why start now? And also, if this house caught fire, it would go up like a tinderbox!

#3TC, #threethingschallenge