if I never loved, I never would have cried

My bedside table holds - you had to expect it - a somewhat odd variety of items gathered in my travels. The hand-carved and polished wooden plate is from Peru, brought back as a gift for me from one of the ex-FIL's rare trips south. The "rocks" were gifts, too. The mottled one from a colleague's vacation in the far reaches of Canada (PEI). The silver one from my best friend from college (and beyond) - a not-so-subtle reminder to pick up my damned phone now and then. The other two from the glory that is Heidi. Perfect reminders of my own vacation: the one that saved my soul. The coaster beneath the candle came for my birthday (or thereabouts) a couple of years ago, when my own "Courage" was in short supply and high demand. The candle is a bit of nothing, just a little splurge, but significant even in that. My ex-spouse was prudent about things like "fire", so he flatly refused having candles anywhere near the bedroom. And my ex-BF, Nick, wouldn't tolerate anything even vaguely romantic incited by anyone other than himself. So what happens when I am once again running the show? Yup, a candle (blueberry muffin scented, which sounds dreadful but is actually beyond wonderful), right next to the bed. So there!