Last night was leftover night because I had too much running around to do. I didn't have time to cook like I usually do. It's a good thing I had made spaghetti a few nights earlier. It's a good thing my family loves spaghetti. They mind having a spaghetti repeat a few nights later. I had to make more noodles and toast some garlic bread. I added a little more spice to the sauce because sauce has a tendency to mellow after refrigeration. It didn't take long and seemed better than it had been on Tuesday night.
While setting the table, before calling them in, I thought of candles. I didn't set candles, but I thought of them and smiled. Why did I think of candles? EVERY TIME mom served spaghetti to the FInlayson family growing up, there were candles on the table. The table would be set with a table cloth and candles burning. It always made spaghetti night special to me as a kid, all eight of us eating our spaghetti dinner in the dark, to the light of the flickering candles.
I wish though that I had a picture of the man on the ceiling. There's no way I can describe him for you. Every time the candles were burning beneath the old lamp fixture, there would be a shadow cast upon the ceiling over our heads that resembled a huge smiling face. It was an unusual of old hanging fixture in the kitchen. I haven't seen one like it before or since. Ours was a mere happenstance that a candle lit beneath beneath would cause such a funny looking fellow up there. It did every time.
So I reheated the spaghetti last night thinking of spaghetti nights of my youth. Thinking of the old vinegar bottles covered with colorful candle wax that I had not thought of in years. Thinking of all my siblings eating our spaghetti, while giggling at the big happy shadow on the ceiling smiling down at us.