Candle

As the rusty red headed natural colored wooden match is dragged along the red poke-a-dotted striker strip glued to the side of the red, white and blue box I can see the spark increase in volume until it burst into a bright yellow flame.  The ignition of the sulfur fills the air with a pungent rotten egg smell causing me to involuntarily wrinkle my nose in genuine disgust of the odor.  The flaming wooden match is moved to the wick of a four inch round translucent white candle stuck in what looks similar to a Boone’s Farm Apple wine bottle cap.  I touch the fire to the new wick triggering another flame into existence.  It does not burst into a strong steady flame right away.  It struggles against the inertia of burning the brand new string and melting the wax to sustain itself.  I think to myself how weak this whole process is.  But in the next instance I remember a time when a candle such as this one provided just the right amount of heat to bring on a feeling of unbridled euphoria.  It was during a winter military training exercise after Thanksgiving Day on the Aleutian Island of Amchitka.  I was curled up in a hastily constructed snow cave.  The small amount of heat generated by the flame of the candle transformed the frigid cavern into a cozy temporary living space.  While the candle continues to shed its pitiful glow in the poorly lighted writing area I think about the measurement of candlepower.  It is a measurement of light produced as compared to the number of candles it takes to generate the same intensity of light.  How many candles does it take to get this room bright enough to read without causing extreme eye strain?  Why worry about this when I could “Google” it.  The flame of the candle is fighting boldly against the air currents given off by the blade of a ceiling fan located about thirty feet from the candle.  The cup caused by the burning of the wick is lopsided because of the fan.  I bend over and blow the flame out.  This kills the yellow and blue flame but the fire does not give up willingly.  As black to white smoke reaches skyward a bright red ember glows until it no longer suck the melted wax up the wick to burn.  It dies unceremoniously.