I would like to say that the wind howls, the leaves blew, and the pumpkins growls. That has never been the memory of my Halloween childhood memory. What I do remember is dressing up in school. Maybe trick or treating? Maybe.
It wasn’t until my sister and I suddenly were old enough to have a strategy that we went trick or treating in full force. We considered the best neighborhoods—the areas that maximized the chance of getting lots of candy while minimizing the time from door to door. But what about the times before we had that independence? When parents had to bring us to house to house? I don’t remember any of that.
I am in Minnesota for the week (again) and was invited (very kindly) by a coworker and her family. I followed along with her 4 year old and 6 year old, dressed in a cat and vampire respectively. They ran from door to door, shouting trick or treating, and mumbling thank you as they ran away.
“How many did you get?” I asked.
“What’s the best from the house?”
“I got three once. That’s usually the best. One is the worst. Oh! I got four! No, five!!!!”
When out of sight, her father dumped candy in my bag. And at back at my hotel bag, I sorted through the small pile. Remembering how it used to be. How to organize. How to feel the sweat and tears in each piece.