My uncle tells the story about 2 1965 corvettes he once owned. They were his pride and joy. Then one day they caught fire. He never said why but when the firemen showed up to put them out, one remarked, “Boy, they sure burn pretty.”
It is a wonder my uncle didn’t go to jail for murder.
I was told that story before I was a teen and it has stuck with me. When I lit the candle my son gave me for my birthday, I noticed the striations of color the once all-blue candle made.
And sure enough, in the back of my head, I thought, Boy, that sure burns pretty.
Until next time.