I was cleaning out my closet last weekend and I found a shitload of votive candles that I bought and never burned. They were all stored together in one box, thus rendering their scent indeterminable. They all smell like potpourri, no matter what their individual labels read. Then there are those sans labels. It's like the mystery flavor Dum-Dum lollipop... is it apple? rose? mango? grandma's kitchen? Damned if I know.
As a teacher, I get about a gazillion candles as gifts every year (they're as popular as dollar store religious figurines or mugs filled with those foil-wrapped strawberry candies that no one likes), and I don't burn them as often as I used to. I decided that they were going to waste sitting in the box, so I pulled out a few that looked Christmas-y (clove, pine, hollyberry) along with a few of the mystery scents, determined to finally get my money's worth.
So now I'm sitting in my room with three votive candles lit (plus a pillar candle that's been collecting dust since a former student gave it to me two years ago). I've got the lights off to better appreciate the candles' glow. It's rather nice, actually. Soothing. Relaxing.
There's just something about votive candles that makes me nostalgic for college. Reminds me of sitting in my dorm room, listening to Counting Crows ("August and Everything After," most likely)... or in the living room of the apartment at La Salle, talking on the phone to my boyfriend-at-the-time and listening to Fiona Apple ("Tidal"), after my roommates had gone to bed.
Good times. Good times indeed.
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