Homecoming

I ruminated a little. Perhaps it would be best to sit still for a while. After all, I’d only been thrown out two hours before. Someone might come along and want me again. I glanced down at my sheer silver sides, curling round at the ends to form my base, then I looked up at the sky where my small bowl of a head could hold a burning light. I couldn’t think why they’d thrown me out. I had always been part of their dinners, jostling on the table with the crockery and cutlery, lending burnished light to the whole proceedings. I loved the darkness after the meal when all was put away and I could reflect on the laughter and banter of the family.

Yet now, here I was in a box on a rubbish tip. And it had happened so fast my head was swirling. The butler had picked me up, placed me in the box with some other rubbish and off we’d gone in the car. I peeped over the edge and could see that I was quite far up the tip. How could I ever get out of there? It was growing colder and the darkness seemed to be stirring. It had never done so in the dark wood panelled dining room. Always still and quiet. What could this moving darkness be? It grew stronger and colder and objects next to me began to swirl and curl around my box. Nasty pungent smells filled the air. Rotting vegetables and dank newspapers. I object! I thought. I cannot stay here. I banged my head against my box until I’d broken through. My head popped out followed by my long silvery body and then my base. I found myself falling and rolling down the heap of rubbish until the ground was beneath me. I stopped, panting. But the strange dark air seemed to gyrate and convulse around me. It was moving me along the ground. I found myself rolling and rolling, being swept along by a tidal wave of air. The gate was in sight and still I rolled, out into the road and down a lane. I passed a house. Beautifully lit like a living heart in the darkness. Soft warm light burst from the windows and I wanted so much to be part of that scene. I tried to stop but the strange circulating air carried me on. On I went until another house loomed out of the black night. How I wished someone would just pick me up, strike a match and give me some light! Suddenly I stopped. I was stuck by a wooden gate. The driveway was in front of me. It peeled away up to the house teetering on a low lying hill. I yanked against the gate but one of the silver curls was somehow caught. I gasped for breath and looked around. It was quiet now. The strange air was still. Then I heard a noise. It was a car rumbling through the dark. I’d seen my family often enough through the dining room window arriving and leaving in theirs. The car stopped. A woman rolled down her window and looked at me in surprise. What a beautiful silver candlestick! she exclaimed. Then I was in her car, warm and cosy and going home.

As we rounded the end of the drive, the door opened and a family cascaded out into the velvet night. Three or four little ones. Then a dog followed, squirming and barking, wrapping himself around the little ones’ legs. What a sight for my poor silver eyes! Now children, said the lady, I’ve got a surprise for you. I just found it lying by the gate. It looked so forlorn I thought we’d give it a home. Is it a cat? asked one of the children, jumping around in their excitement. No, no, said the lady smiling. Such a strange thing to find, almost as if it had come here all by itself! Maybe the wind blew it along, shouted one of the boys. His little gold curls bounced and he tried to grab the object held in the lady’s hand. She pushed me inside her warm furry coat and laughed. Come on, she said. We need to lay the table first! But I was full of curiosity. Was that what the dark air was called? Wind? What a lovely word. It seemed to sing and dance like I had and I almost wished I was outside again, feeling myself pushed along the narrow lane and up to the gate where I’d found my home.

The children vanished inside and I could hear them chattering and laughing but most of all I could hear the wonderful familiar noise of cutlery clattering and crockery scraping. The house seemed to go on forever. It was light and airy and had colourful pictures on the walls. Now two dogs skittered across polished floors, their brown coats gleaming.

The lady with the golden hair seemed to have children and laughter trailing after her. Some clutched knives and forks, some spoons and plates but all were happy to help and the atmosphere was jovial.

I was still clutched inside her warm coat and felt myself carried along peeping out with my silvery eyes to see the young ones capering by.

The next thing I knew I was being taken out of her warm coat and handled. She placed me carefully on a large wooden table then stopped and looked at me more closely. She touched my base and softly felt my silver curls. What is the matter, I thought. Have I been broken? Is that why I was thrown out? The lady lifted me to her lips and gave my sparkly surface a sudden soft kiss. Then she placed me gently down and was gone. I felt so relieved. It seemed that she loved me and accepted me even if I was a little wounded. I stared at my new abode and gasped in incredulous wonder as I gazed around the whitewashed room with its gorgeously crafted wooden furniture guided with gold. Pink silk curtains draped the large Georgian windows. The large rectangular oak table graced the middle of the floor and I had been given pride of place at its centre.

The children entered and started laying the table. Then I was seen! Look! they gasped. What a beautiful candlestick. Oh mother, where did you find it? At the gate, she said, with brightly shining eyes. Shall we all sit down? She picked up a candle, placed it into my bowl and lit the match. Light, sparkle and joy filled me. All eyes gazed upon me. I was home.