I'm glad that October is over. I wish October was still here. I know that may sound a little strange, but there are times when most of us feel that way, the wanting time to fly while standing still.
October had been one of my favorite months since forever for a variety of reasons: it is the first full fall month; my birthday is in October, as are my granddaughter's and my youngest niece's; Halloween is in October, which with its passing kicks the holiday season into gear; the weather cools, the days shorten. What's not to like? And yet, it's the same month when my late husband, Paul, died. So the ambivalence is understandable.
Last night, I sat on the front porch, waiting for trick-or-treaters. The first couple of kids showed up shortly after we'd finished dinner. After handing a couple of candy bars, I grabbed the bowl of candy and headed for the porch.
It took a little while for more kids to arrive. While I waited, I watched the kids playing across the street. Apparently, a bunch of parents had decided it would be more fun for everyone - adults, kids - if several families' worth of parents brought all the kids around trick-or-treating. There were times when several families in our last neighborhood did that when my kids were young enough to go out collecting candy. Parents would catch up for a good hour or two in the relaxed way that most of us usually didn't have time for in our hurried lives while our kids had a blast.
As a few more parents wandered into the neighbors' house, as their kids played in the front yard. It was kind-of a peaceful thing, waiting on the porch to see who'd show up, seeing the kids running around the yard across the street as they shrieked in anticipation of Halloween! and all it entails.
Slowly, the sky above their house changed color. There was one brilliantly deep-but-bright blue streak showing behind the branches of the huge oak in their yard; between the blue and the horizon were several shades of orange and red, ranging from pastel orange, through a shade best described as that of a Creamsicle, through red-orange on to deep red. Soon, the colors shifted so that the sky almost looked bruised. That streak of brilliant blue remained until just before the families across the street headed out at dark.
The first place the group headed was directly across the street to see what goodies I was passing out.
"Hey, Robin," our neighbor, H.G., said. "How's it going?"
"Okay," I told her. "How about you?"
"Not bad," she smiled.
The group wandered off, heading south, no doubt hitting up other houses throughout the neighborhood.
Later, the lady next door called over. She, too, was out on her porch, passing out candy. "Any idea what's going on at the park?" R. asked. The back entrance to one of the city's larger parks is only a few houses away from us. It's close enough that it takes me all of a minute to get there. We could see the lights on at the park. While the city's website had mentioned a family-style Halloween gathering at a large field near the city's main fire station, replete with candy for the kids, I'd seen nothing about anything going on at our neighborhood park.
For the next couple of hours, R. and I passed out candy, getting a kick out of different groups of trick-or-treaters, commenting back and forth between bursts of vampires and princesses.
At one point, my son M. mentioned that someone had called but he hadn't gotten to the phone in time. After dialing voicemail, I listened as an automated voice reminded me of my doctor's appointment on Monday. It was funny in that 1) the doctor's office had called around noon to reschedule the appointment to next month, and 2) it was probably 8:00 p.m. while I was outside, passing out Halloween candy. Definitely one of those That's the crazy part of automation for you moments. Then, not five minutes later, the phone rang again. It was a fund-raiser, seeing if I'd donate to..."Nope, not now," I told the fund-raiser.
"But it's for a good cause!" he told me.
"Put me on your Do Not Call list," I said, then hung up as another group came up the sidewalk.
Finally, candy gone, R. called out her good-night and I called back. I watched as the group across the street wandered home. And finally, I wandered in, turning off the front porch light.
This morning, I noticed that H.G. had posted pictures of the kids trading candy on the living room floor. The years my kids did that - "I'll trade you all my Snickers for you Now-And-Laters!" "Okay!" - were years ago. And my sister and brother and me doing that are but a dream.
But as long as there are kids who love candy and dressing up, and parents willing to take their kids around, and neighbors willing to see what kind of cool costumes the kids are wearing while passing out candy, Halloween will remain part of our culture.
I'll still think of it as the beginning of the holiday season.
