, , , , , , , , ,

Trick or Treat,

Smell my feet

Give me something good to eat

If you don’t

I don’t care

I’ll pull down your underwear.


I have that feeling. I would give an attempt at describing it, but I am not altogether sure that there is an exact word for what I am feeling. Nostalgia, perhaps? When the leaves begin to change into multi-shades of color and begin to cover the ground like snow- well like snow somewhere it actually sticks to the ground. The decorations come out of a years’ worth of storage all painted in cobwebs, ready to be put to use. Pumpkins on every porch step, lit with the “black flame candle” that resurrects the costumes and candy from the previous year. I can feel the clock ticking closer and closer to not only my birthday, but Achilles’, Winifred’s, and Sarah’s. And then there is Thanksgiving! For those of you that followed what I was alluding to, and those of you that didn’t- It’s Autumn.

I am ready for that feeling you get when the sun begins to set on cool, chilly day. Where the wind picks the dead leaves up off the ground and sends them flying haphazardly. Where a light jacket is just perfect… And then, as the final moments of day begin to disappear the sun fades in a splash of red, orange, and yellow. It has been a year since we all experienced fall, but it feels much longer. I am ready for feet to hit the ground and feel and hear the crunch of the leaves that stood on a tall tree during the summer. And as the sun mixes with the evening sky and the colors of a pinwheel dart across its surface, I want to feel the chilling breeze soothe my aching for the joining of my family.

The fondest memories of my childhood were from the numerous times my siblings and I raked our large lawn of dead leaves into a giant pile and catapulted ourselves into them. And since we are from the south where there is virtually no snow, except the occasional fluke where we are hit with the snow that actually sticks, we would have “leave” angels. Creative, right? Of course right. I can almost smell the sweet and succulent smells of a Thanksgiving dinner wafting through the kitchen windows and into the front yard. My mother, hands down the best cook I have ever known. And that my friend is saying something. Of course, I might be biased, but based on her reputation not many would disagree. And those that do, well… haters will hate.

Oh, how I am ready for the Trick or Treaters! The numerous costumes, especially the babies dressed up in the most adorable outfits that you can’t help but dump the rest of the candy from your bowl into their bag. Which leads me to a story… Of course I could tell you story after story about all the memories I have from Halloween, but I am going to center in on one. So when I was some age, and to be honest I do not remember what age I was, but I was somewhere in elementary school, it was my third year as dressing up as a vampire. By my mother’s creative hand I was a particularly scary vampire that year or at least to some. And it was that Halloween that we had decided to take a ride on a hayride. And let me tell you, these hayrides they took us through the old, rich neighborhoods… so the candy was almost always top notch. But yes, a hayride and on that hayride were several other kids including some very adorably dressed babies. Well I was sitting between Winifred and Sarah, and across from us sat a little baby boy dressed in fluffy lions costume. He was the adorable one, no doubt about it- I knew it then, and I remember that fact now. Once his little lion face took a look at my fangs, “blood” dripping from my lips, and my awkward purple hair he released a shriek that even a banshee would be proud of. For the remainder of the night I couldn’t even look in the direction of the little lion without him making a desperate attempt to crawl away from me as he shrieked. I do not think his parents were all too happy with me that night.

And now that I see the darkened leaves just beginning to cover the slightly still warm ground I can feel my heart leap in anticipation for the coming events. Let me tell you reader, I do not quite care about the fact that I am 17, I will be Trick or Treating. My costume? Haven’t deiced yet, but it is sure to be wickedly cool…I hope. And then as the hustle and bustle of Halloween is over, and stores like Wal-Mart begin to put all the Halloween candy on sale and start throwing out Thanksgiving knickknacks, I will start the craving for my mother’s home cooked Thanksgiving meal. It will not come, mainly because I do not see my mother until Christmas or Summer, but also because my Dad’s girlfriend, Beverly, will not create a meal of mouth-watering anticipation. Let me put it like this, my mother’s cooking causes my stomach to produce growling noises loud enough to wake even the heaviest sleeper. Beverly’s? Well it makes my stomach crawl away…scared about what I am about to put into it.

Happy “Fall”ing fellow Autumners!