She walked into her kitchen that evening after coming back from several meetings, a concert, and a couple of rehearsals. Her apartment was empty; go figure. Her roommate was probably off painting the town red, as usual. On her kitchen table sat her Grandma’s old menorah. Of course, tonight was the first night of Chanukah. How could she have forgotten. This was her absolute favorite holiday. She chuckled to herself, and pulled out two candles. This was the first Chanukah she had spent alone. Her brother was studying abroad, her parents in Mexico on a cruise, her best friend teaching a night class at the community college.
She put the candle in the first holder, and lit the shamash.
“Baruch ata adonai,” she sang hearing her voice bounce across the walls of the kitchen. She sang the second prayer. The third. Each prayer, her voice began to quiver a little more. Afterwards, she stood there watching the flames flicker quietly.
She turned off the lights and sat there in silence until it was dark.