Glorious month that you are.
Cooler than July with its sandals and sweat.
More refined than May with its midges and mud.
You. Quiet and dignified as leaves turn from green to amber and gold. Burnt orange and crimson before dropping with a whisper at my feet.
Finally. Autumn has arrived. My favorite holiday is just around the corner.
Every year an uncontrollable urge fills my days and haunts my dreams. Enchants me. Sends me gawking to the costume and decoration aisles; my yearly pilgrimage to find the perfect pumpkin.
Trick or Treating. I want to go. Wear a costume. Ghoulish makeup.
Glitter. Goo. Fake blood.
Thrill of thrills.
Don’t invite me to a Halloween party. I want the real thing.
To hit the streets armed with a white pillowcase; the smell of chocolate lingering for weeks afterwards.
To ring doorbells and say ‘Trick or Treat!’ with loud enthusiasm.
To root through the bag as I go hoping for snickers bars or peanut M&M’s. Trade the hard candies for caramels.
But of course. Of course! – this is a fantasy. A child’s wish. In the ‘real’ world people my age don’t. Imagine a grown woman as a vampire, a witch or something more imaginative at your door without a child in tow. What would you do? Call the police? Chase her away with a broom?
Not acceptable, they say. I don’t care.
This Halloween. If you see a ghastly, over-the-hill woman skulking towards your front door, don’t scream.
Don’t hide or call for re-enforcements.
Just give her the candy and nobody gets hurt.