The Song of Belle

Chapter 7: Like a Melting Candle

I have always been mesmerized by a candle light. The flames swaying that brightens in the dark and relaxing scent pouring in the living room. I have always loved to watch lavander and citronella tea candles Mom lits in the living room. I am amazed at the dancing little flames and I observed patiently until they melt. Candles are like memories. The flames represent our hearts and minds that keep them burning. When candles melt, the scent drifts and lingers into the air. It doesn't leave behind as soon as the flame stops burning. Rather, it lingers... It lingers for a little while. Until you light another candle to make another memory. Which will linger too. Like the candle which scent will be instilled in your mind, even if there are no more candles to light. Memories do too. They linger and linger up to the infinite last.

"Are you ready, son?" Asked the man with a calming presence.

"I think so." I replied, tears all over my face.

"Remember son, if you get lost...Remember the sounds. Remember the scents. Scents and sounds are the best way to recall. If you remember bad ones, and they make you sad, omit the lonely sounds. It is in the power of your hands to turn that music off. If you remember good ones, follow the lovely sounds. Dance and sing and jump! It is in the power of your hands to keep the music playing. Life is as simple as that." The man kept on talking. His every words calm me but I listened with a half ear.

"What about the scent?" I asked him as i stared blankly in the blue skies.

The man tapped my left shoulder thrice and proceeded to speak:

"The scents... The scents will guide you. For as long as you smell a familiar smell, you are safe in your direction. If you get lost and don't hear any sound, try to remember a scent and follow the scent."

"I don't get it..." I pretended. I knew i do, but I just said the words to hear more from the man.

"You remember when you were a kid?" He asked kindly with a sweet smile on his face. And his presence beside me is the safest I have ever been.

"What about it?" I quipped.

"Well...What wakes you up in the morning?" He asked.

"Uhmmm... bacons, eggs... fried rice." I answered and the picture of Mom cooking in the kitchen in our house at Madeena made me emotional again.

His right hand tapped my left shoulder once and remained there before speaking:

"You wake up to the smell. While you were asleep, subconsciously you hear the frying, right?" He asked.

"Yes...sometimes. Ehrm...most probably? " I replied.

"But you don't get up to the sound. Sounds are as endearing as they are irritating. Sounds lead as it tend to mislead or the other way around. So learn to differentiate the good and the bad sounds and you will not get lost. Scents... if it smells good. It does smell good. If it smells unpleasant it must be unpleasant, more or less. I hope you understand."

I nodded, my mind wandering back to Madeena. The birds, the lush field, the red violet skies when sunset comes.

"I wished to go back to that place." I told the old man childishly.

The man shook his head quite disappointed and spoke:

"If you always try to find every place you have been to, you will never be home. You can't always go back to a place when you miss it. But this...he pointed at my heart. "This is a place you will never miss. This is home. You go back here and you are always home. This is your only place." He said tapping his finger in my heart.