Pack, Books and Candle

Tea: Blood Orange

Music: Dan Papirany, "Autumn Leaves"

Time: Night.

I did a lot of walking today -- five miles' worth, at least.

During the morning portion of my purposeful rambles, I came upon a makeshift memorial at the base of a lamppost. It had been there a while. Two of the three potted plants were still alive but drooping, and the candle -- the scented sort that comes in a jar -- was tipped over. The wax part, about three fingers deep with some serviceable wick still running through it, had come out and lay a few feet away from the glass.

I walked by ... then stopped, about fifteen feet down the sidewalk. Don't ask me why. It just nagged at me, that candle. So I righted the jar, put the scented wax back in and walked on.

Tonight, I looked up the story. That spot is where a 15-year-old high school sophomore named David J. Lengle was hit and killed by a car in August. He was the same age as my own son.

I can't imagine the pain of losing a child, especially so suddenly. I can't imagine what the driver feels, either. That can't be an easy thing to bear.

Anything else I could write would be inadequate. So tomorrow, or the day after, I'm just going to light what's left of that candle.

Two stories tomorrow. I've had enough of death for the night.