Two candles, and the shamash. Nested next to one another, commemorating the hours that small vial of oil continued to shine brightly.
I've been holding that image in the front of my brain today. There's so much to do, so much I want to do, so much that's going to happen, and I'm only one small person trying to tackle it all. Little Cuter is in the same predicament; although she is marginally larger than I am, her responsibilities are more pressing.
No one is paying me to show up at 8am, no one expects me to sing her to sleep, no one has any call on my time at all, really. And yet, the Brownie List beckons, the Stroll and Roll looms, and the stack of library books tempts. My responsibilities trumped my desire to curl up in the sunshine with Kay Scarpetta. I cancelled Pilates, I begged off Mah Jongg. I sat at the dining room table and packed and labeled and stickered to my heart's content; then TBG played Rudolph to my elf and drove the big bag of boxes and me to the post office.
There's a contented sigh, and then, it's back to work. There are dozens and dozens of boxes yet to fill.
Did the oil in the lamp worry about endurance? Did the oil feel tempted to just slither away? These are the thoughts one has while cutting brownie squares.... over and over and over again.