These Candles Made Me a Candle Person. Now I Eat My Cheerios by Candlelight.

I have never been a candle person. Open flames indoors don’t relax me. While other people may revel in the touch of ambiance a candle produces, I see a literal fire hazard.
My family is less worried. My 11-year-old looooooves candles. She will beg to light and extinguish birthday candles over and over. “Mmmm, that smells so good,” she’ll trill as I watch her light-puff-light-puff on repeat.
Each year, my sister, who seems to believe that a holiday tablescape is incomplete without tapers, has insisted on bringing them to my house at Christmas, despite the fact that for several years I did not own candlestick holders. For a while, she’d gamely jury-rig one out of a shot glass from Caryn and Fred’s 2003 wedding.
But last year, I figured it was time to address the issue. I wasn’t going to stop my sister from bringing candles, so I might as well have a proper receptacle ready to receive them. I was able to get some metal candlesticks from a neighbor via a buy-nothing group. Finally, a drama-free centerpiece.
And then I just never put them away. After the holiday, the candlesticks stayed out on the table, and we continued to light them at mealtimes. First, just dinners. Then we added breakfasts, then weekend lunches. Now, practically every meal we have at home, from Chinese takeout to steak on the grill, involves flickering candlelight. It’s lovely.
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