Fleeing the Hijab

Growing up in Shiraz, Iran, during Hanukkah Baba Esghel, my grandfather, would call us to his house just next door to where I lived with my parents and four siblings. Every night of the holiday, he covered a square table with a cardboard cover and lined the candles up by color, in brilliant rows of yellow, red, blue, and orange. Each night he lit the Shamash and lit the candle to commemorate the miracle of the lights. In addition to lighting the menorah he would light a separate candle for each of his 12 children and numerous grandchildren. No matter where his children were, Baba Eshgel lit 60 new candles each night during Hanukkah and the table seemed like a shining sea of fire.