The Little Match Girl Lives

I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with the story of the little match girl. Even as a young girl, I’ve always been drawn to her story. While other girls my age were Cinderellas and Sleeping Beauties, I was a Little Match Girl.

For the benefit of those who are not familiar with her, here’s a gist of her story.

She is a little girl who sells match sticks for a living. On the day the story happened, it’s New Year’s eve, the height of winter. She was afraid to go home because she’s afraid her father will beat her for not being to sell any matchsticks. She’s cold and hungry. Her head unprotected from the falling snow, her feet unprotected from the cold ground. She walks passing by windows showing families getting together for the holiday. They are warmed by the fire, warmed by affection in the room. They are all celebrating the coming of the new year.

She stopped at a corner which protected her from the falling snow and the cold air. In an effort to keep warm, she struck one match. In the glow of the flame of the match stick, she imagined a stove burning, warming her hands and feet. She got so engrossed at the sight she was surprised when the light of the match went out and the stove vanished.

She struck another match hoping to find the oven again. But this time, the sight that appeared a room with a tabled filled with so much food, but as she drew near, the light went out. And she left holding a half-burnt matchstick once again.

She struck another match. And a beautiful Christmas tree appeared. It had pretty decorations, and as she reached out to touch one, the light went out one more time. She looked at the night sky and saw a falling star. She remembered her grandmother telling her that when a start falls, a soul goes up to God.

She struck one more match and her grandmother appeared. She was the only person who showed her love, so she doesn’t want her to disappear. She called out to her grandmother to not leave her, so she lighted all the matchsticks she had. The glow of the flame grew bigger and bigger until she felt her grandmother’s arms around her.

In the morning, people who passed by the corner saw the little match girl frozen to death, burnt matchsticks by her. They all thought she tried to warm herself.

I am The Little Match Girl. I still have unburned matchsticks in my hands.

p.s. thanks to peter emmerich for the picture