One year ago today, Mario and I took possession of our house. As we locked our car in the driveway, it dawned on us that it was Halloween, as trick-or-treaters pranced up and down the dark street. I thought to myself, "Excellent! They do celebrate Halloween here!" I feverishly dreamed about being prepared for this Halloween, passing out candy in my witch's costume, while perched in a little alcove just to the side of our driveway, and scaring the poop out of the kids, as I didn't imagine they would notice me there.
So imagine my surprise yesterday evening when a troop of 5 kids knocked on our gate, yelling "Halloween! Halloween!" Apparently this is the thing to say instead of "trick-or-treat". Not being a grinch, I fished out the candy, teased them about being a day early, and sent them satisfied on their merry way.
While I never remembered to bring my witch's costume from Indiana, and it's a bit chilly to be sitting on the hard concrete all night, I decided to be content to wait for the trick-or-treaters in the comfort of my warm-ish house. And I waited. And waited. Did I really see those trick-or-treaters in this neighborhood last year? Bursting with festive impatience, I stalked my driveway and sidewalk. No children were to be seen.
Well, more candy for me.
While pulling Clara's pajamas out of her drawer at 8:00, I caught a chorus of, "Halloween! Halloween!" coming from the street. Still dressed, I snatched the baby off her changing table and raced for the door, candy bowl in hand. Four little monsters waited at the gate. We respectively spread our Halloween cheer. Triumphantly, I returned to my house. For the first time in years, I celebrated Halloween. And it felt good.
There's nothing like giving candy to perfect strangers wearing grisly costumes. Let's call it a holiday.