Candlelight

TONY stared at his birthday cake. Somehow it seemed to have too many candles on it. He was ninety years old. “Ninety! When did that happen?” There was doubt in his mind, but it was true, he was ninety, and could not blow out his nine candles at once. He would cough if he did. Everyone worried about him when he coughed, especially the little ones. And he didn’t want that.

A smile crossed his lips as he remembered PAT. He had found answers for many of her questions, but she had died too young; too young to share them with him. He sighed, missing her. His love for her had never dwindled nor flickered; she would always be the love of his life. His eyes still lit up at thoughts of her. Thoughts which were more frequent lately, he grinned, maybe he was dying.

PAT was what you called a crazy-maker. If it wasn’t crazy, it would be, after PAT had her finger-prints all over it. Fingers that he loved to put in his mouth. He giggled to himself, he was being bad.

He sensed that someone was speaking to him and he looked up, a smile on his lips. It was DAVID. DAVID was a good son. He had watched DAVID grow, watched him avoid some of his mistakes; make a whole bunch of other incredible ones. TONY looked around, DAVID had done well. He had created a family for himself, one which supported him. TONY loved his only son, and would miss him.

They wanted TONY to blow out his candles. TONY beckoned to the little one. She was intelligent that one, just like PAT. She was also crazy.

He lifted her four-year old frame unto his knee, “You’ll help Grandpa blow --?” She blew a noisy raspberry on his cheek. He felt her soft little hands holding his cheeks, her odourless breath past his nose. He laughed.

Her mother, SUE was duly mortified by her antics. TONY liked SUE; she was a good person. She didn’t need to learn that the world needed crazy-makers, not yet, that came with age.

Everything is quieter when you are old. At first you suspect it’s your hearing, but after a while, you realize that you’ve just stopped listening, you’ve heard enough. Eventually, you’ll rely on your memories and if you’re lucky, you’ll have a crazy-maker in them. They make memories stand out.

TONY and his Grand-daughter faced the candles and took deep breaths. They blew out all the candles together. She leaned forward, pulling the candles off the cake. At the last one, she slipped and landed face first into it. She raised her face, a priceless look of cake and bewilderment written all over it.

TONY could see her MOTHER’S mouth moving, but he did not hear the words. All he could hear was his laughter, the joy of another precious memory. He was enjoying his birthday and best of all, PAT was near.