<center>*It didn't simply go out; it burned lower and lower still until eventually, little more than an ember existed, if that. We never expect it to happen I suppose, or maybe never expect it to happen to us, but it does. In life, at some point along the journey, our inner fire often goes out and life, our spirit, feels a little colder and darker, or at least more shadowed. We all handle and cope with it differently, but I've often found the ember, or spark, can burst into a flame by way of an encounter with another person. I don't mean that happiness, purpose or contentment with life is dependant upon other people, just that the right people can help fuel the fire of passion, bring light and rekindle one's inner spirit.*</center>

<center>![20220904_110316.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/becca-mac/23viAcM3sbLfZHce4Fe5vaQZZQNd1eyJ5az35sXQMgbD9jq24mrPqjY2yLWGgXj6jgqYN.jpg)</center>

<center><sub><sub>I took this image</sub></sub></center>

Recently I took a drive in the countryside and found myself at a small, but active, village full of little shops and stalls. It's my sort of place and I stayed a while. 

As I wandered I came across many personalities, most stall-holders, and almost all of them were happy to chat about their wares, the day and life in general. As I meandered around I gravitated to the stalls that held things I like and I spent a good amount of time at a little home made craft stall which is where I took the photo you see in this post. Those scented candles had the most amazing fragrance and despite them being hand made and imperfect I wanted one; I suppose, *because they were hand made and imperfect* I wanted one. 

I spoke to the lady running the stall and somehow we clicked. We'd swapped basic stories in an intertwined-conversational way and I discovered that she'd recently lost her husband of 40 years. She teared up a little, but soon wiped them away and smiled and began telling me how they would do crafts together; her candles and trinkets and his wooden toy-making. It sounded so lovely and comforting and I was left with a happy feeling for them and that they'd spent so many years together. I noticed how she trailed her hand lovingly over one such wooden toy upon the table as if it was the back of his hand. It was beautiful. 

The woman told me she misses her husband every day and that she speaks to him at times; something she made me promise to tell no one else. But she'd vowed to continue the crafts and her stall, even without him, as she met such lovely people and enjoyed giving them something that made them happy in return. I purchased a candle...Ok, I purchased two, and we said our farewell's after a hug. It was a nice moment. 

I wandered off aimlessly...Not really, I walked purposefully towards the ice cream shop feeling in need of that cold, creamy comfort and thought about that lady and her story. 

*Her fire had extinguished,* she told me, her spirit cold and seemingly dormant after her husband died, but she thought about him, those years they spent together and the things they'd created, shared and overcome together and she realised that he was still there, a spark or ember forever within her, and she knew she needed to get back to herself, to carry on, whilst carrying his flame. She does that through her crafts, the stall, the people she meets and conversations she has. 

It was a very uplifting encounter for me, and is exactly the type of encounter that helps the lady keep her fire burning. As I ate my ice cream  I hoped I'd be as empowered, courageous and brave as she was if in the same situation. 

Becca 💗