First night, two candles.
Hanukkah was Lilly Goldâs favorite holiday, not for the exchange of gifts or excuse to indulge in fried foods, but because of the concept behind it. Not necessarily the religious reasonâcommemorating a war had never seemed festive to her. But bringing light into the world, celebrating by creating sparks in the darkness, had always appealed to her.
So had the idea of a miracle.
It didnât have to be something as incredible as a lamp burning for eight nights on oil meant to last only a few, or some grand victory over much stronger enemies. Nope, Lilly would be happy to settle for discovering a ten-spot in her coat pocket sheâd forgotten from last year, or fitting into her skinny jeans, or maybe nabbing a sexy, out-of-season Louis Vuitton for twenty bucks at a yard sale in the rich part of town. Miracles like that might not change the whole world, but theyâd change hers. And she was due for some change, she thought as she struck the match to light the first candle.
Thunder in the snow.
The noise came first, followed a bare second later by the bright white flash of lightning, fierce enough to outline the entire backyard. Blinking, Lilly paused, match in hand, to stare through the glass.
Weird.
With the lights on in the kitchen, all she could see was her reflection, two dark eyes in a pale face surrounded by a mass of dark curls, and beyond that, the cascading sheet of snow coming down as fast and thick as rain. The blizzard had been going on since that morning.
The match burned her fingers and with a hiss she blew it out and dropped it in the sink. Lilly stuck her fingertip in her mouth, sucking gently at the sting, as another boom rattled the window. A second later, another flash of light, so bright this time it seared her eyes and left her blinking away spots.
Wasnât the lightning supposed to come first?
She gripped the sinkâs metal edge, leaning forward to look out the kitchen window but unable to get close enough to press her face to the glass. She could hear the shush-shush of the snow against the house. Could feel the chill seeping through the glass. No more thunder, no more lightning. Lilly pushed back from the counter and lit another match, this time managing to get the shamash, the helper candle, lit before the match burned too low.
She said the blessings and used the shamash to light the other one for the first night of Hanukkah. Then she stepped back to admire the menorah of silver and brass. Her grandmother Lillian had given it to her. It was the most beautiful thing Lilly owned.
She set it in the kitchen window because it had no curtains and was close to the sink, which therefore meant nothing would be likely to catch on fire. Lilly had learned that lesson already, in her old apartment. Sure, by the time the super-hot fireman had arrived sheâd managed to put out the flames and clear out most of the smoke, and yes, sheâd gained a date out of it, but she didnât want anything like that happening here in her new house.
Her house, hers alone. The one sheâd bought and paid for all on her own, and in which she was spending her very first holiday.
Alone.
Hugging herself, Lilly stepped back to admire the tiny kitchen. Her appliances werenât old enough to be retro-chic, they were just old, and the cabinets and linoleum would definitely need to be replaced, but all that would have to wait. For now, she was just happy to be making the mortgage payments by herself.
Sheâd lit that menorah every year since her grandma had given it to her just before dying. Five years. It looked different in Lillyâs kitchen window than it had looked in any other place, and Lilly couldnât stop the grin from teasing her mouth as she watched the flames flicker.
She turned out the lights to get the full effect. The candle flames reflecting in the kitchen window looked twice as beautiful, but she wanted to see them from outside. That was the whole point of putting the menorah in the window, to share the light with the world. Grandma Lillian had always said it was a mitzvah, a good deed, to share the beauty of Hanukkah candles with people outside who might not have menorahs of their own to light. According to Grandma Lillian, when the world was new everything had been light until the vessels of Godâs love had been broken, scattering all the sparks across the Earth. Every mitzvah helped gather up a scattered spark and return it. Good deeds were lights in the darkness, each one helping to make the world brighter.