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Novenas
A Meeting I Still Wonder About
I was in Shop-Rite, a grocery store in Dover, New Jersey, a town known for its dense Puerto Rican population. I went to the aisle where they sell Spanish foods, looking for religious candles. I didn’t want them for any ritual purpose; I thought they would work well in the cabin we had rented for skiing in Vermont. We had just returned from the cabin where we’d used up all of the candles, and in the process had dripped wax all over the coffee table. I figured I’d stock up on these inexpensive, slow and clean burning candles. Novenas, I think they’re called.
I found them on a shelf that had a rolling ladder in front of it. A diminutive Puerto Rican woman of about 50 years stood on the ladder. She was holding a large, reddish candle in its glass.
As I approached to choose a suitable size and color for our cabin, I overheard her say to a younger woman at the foot of the ladder, “These are not red. These are dark pink.” Since it was the first week of December, I assumed she was looking for candles for Christmas, and she was not satisfied with this shape of red. It didn’t look Christmas-y to me, either.
I chose smaller, dark green ones, and, at $.59 each, I took four. As I began to walk away, the older woman said to the younger one, “You see, she believes, too. She took the morning ones.” I smiled at her and…
