Little Match Seller

I took this photo of Cary a week ago, when we were walking in Prospect Park after dark. He just lit a match to help me focus my lens, it was really dark and I hardly saw anything, my camera saw even less (hence the lack of focus, sorry). But when I looked at it later, it reminded me of a long-forgotten fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen. It's a sad story, but with Christmas and all, without being too sentimental, I like to remember about those who have less than I do. I used to think I was like the Little Match Seller myself, always dreaming about a perfect family and a perfect home, with the abundance of food and money. We were never very rich, growing up I had to sacrifice my silly little dreams a lot. Later in life realising the things I wanted were exactly that: things that somebody else convinced me I had to have, or things other people had without ever needing them. Now I can afford a lot more, but... I sacrificed again. I have the things, but my family is far away. Do I look in people's windows, dreaming about Christmas crowded with family? I try not to, only sometimes I can't help a sigh. I miss them all the time, but especially on Christmas. And I'm ever so grateful to my boyfriend for spending this most important holiday with me, although he could've had a family Christmas. It means so much more than any gift anybody could give me. Thank you, Cary.