The Wax Pourer – A Short Story

The Wax Pourer

The piercing sun shone brightly in my eyes that Friday morning.  As the car pulled up to the little blue and white house, I wondered what it would look like inside.  We were greeted with a gentle, friendly smile. She was an older woman wearing a long skirt and a red handkerchief on her head that was tied under her chin.  Her wise green eyes held secrets that she would never reveal.

I didn’t know what to expect on that warm summer morning while I sat on her kitchen chair.  Soon the smell of melted wax filled the space; I waited patiently.  Her quiet whispers cut through the stillness in the room as she watched over the sizzling pot.  With the pot in her right hand and an enamel bowl of cold water in her left, she walked towards me.  Again she whispered mystically while pouring the melted wax from the pot into the bowl of cold water she held above my head.

She pulled the wax out of the water and dabbed it on a piece of paper towel.  She studied it, and it spoke to her.  Twice more she melted, poured, and deciphered the shapes created by my secrets and her wax.

When she was done, she gently washed my face with her hand as she whispered to herself.  Then she sent me to the table with a cookie because it was someone else’s turn to experience the Wax Pouring Ceremony.

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The Wax Pouring Ceremony was always shrouded in mystery. I was never really aware of what was taking place, but I always felt better emotionally, physically, and spiritually after seeing the wax pourer. As I got older, my curiosity only increased.

But everything happens in its own time. With the help of some amazing teachers and gifted ancestors, I realize I have talents of my own.  One of those gifts is the ability to pour wax.