This was the first candle I ever made. It started as a hobby during the second year of the pandemic, when someone gifted me a small set of essential oils. The moment I opened the patchouli, I was taken back to childhood camping trips—my daddy’s cologne, the trees we slept beneath, and the pork roast seasoned with lemon and black pepper, cooking slowly under foil. Sacred holds all of that: scent as memory, and memory as a kind of ritual.