home for the holidays smells like fleeting moments of joy
|scent notes||almond + butter + ginger + honey + nutmeg|
|wick||℮ 6 oz - eco wick
℮ 9.5 oz - triple-ply wooden wick
|scent strength (bigger vessel)||subtle, best as desk candles or for small rooms|
|release date||Oct/31/2021, 12 AM (Manila Time)|
|℮ 6 oz||30 hours|
|℮ 9.5 oz||50 hours|
|℮ 10 oz (holiday vessel - concrete)||45 hours|
sad girl story
It’s an understatement to say that my mom loved the holidays. All throughout my childhood (and especially during my teenage years when mom finally discovered the internet), Christmas themes are decided on a whole year ahead. Mom even builds massive displays on her own. She also knew the gifts we would enjoy and as much as possible, wrapped them in separate packaging so we’d have more to open. The year I found Babysitters Club #21 - mom spent months dropping by bookstores to complete Books 1-20 just so I can read them chronologically. Or that time I had a notebook to track all the pokemons - I got the atomic purple Gameboy + Pokemon Blue and Gold.
While we never stayed up for Noche Buena (“ang batang napupuyat, hindi tatangkad”), Christmas mornings have always been an event. It was cups of Swiss Miss, matching pajamas, a mess of unwrapped packages, and the scent of whatever mom is cooking in the kitchen.
We went on a trip during our first Christmas with cancer because mom wanted it to be memorable (in case it was the last time). Our second Christmas was more festive because she was on remission and it felt like that year’s Christmas miracle. But we lost her so close to what was supposedly our third Christmas. That year, all we had was cups of wine with ice cream, matching black clothing, and boxes filled with mom’s things she’ll never use anymore.
And all the holidays after that felt stale. As if a blatant reminder that without mom here, Christmas (and our lives) will never be the same.
'home for the holidays' is for the sad girls wishing that instead of missing someone every single day, they would be here.