I like to think that when I travel, I always find the best souvenirs. For example, I have seven lovely old spools wound with silk thread from Provence; four little cobalt blue bottles that I found in a flea market in Vienna; a lovely wooden sculpture of a prostrate praying monk that I bought from an antique dealer in Thailand (although the piece might originate from Burma); an articulated push toy made of wood and wire in the form of a rhinoceros that I found in a market in Zimbabwe; too many hand-woven Namibian baskets to count; and a Lucite keychain that lights up to reveal a 3-D image of Arlo’s face that we bought in a bustling mall in Bangkok. Although I am very good at finding treasures, I’m equally good at buying and then carrying home things that I think are AMAZING at the time but then just end up taking up space on the shelf or table. The souvenir candle I bought in Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris is one such trinket. At the time, I thought score and bragged loudly enough that the people we were with on that particular day traipsed over to the display to purchase souvenir candles for themselves. I can acknowledge now what I couldn’t see then: I don’t need this candle. I can remember the dark interior of the cathedral without keeping the souvenir.

Offering: One souvenir candle from Notre Dame, unused.



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