It's Halloween, and children everywhere are rushing out into their neighborhoods searching for a trove of candy. When Jean and I lived in Bumpass for three years, the only Halloween visitors were the kids who lived next door. We accepted the dearth of visitors since we had chosen to live in the country. But now we live not just near the city, we live in the city. I know there are kids around here. There's an elementary school two blocks down our street!
Jean and I have taken measures to increase our visitors: all the house lights are on; there's a fire going (makes the house smell nice and homey); we've got a Halloween Snoopy flag out on the pole and another one in the window just for tonight. We've got a tupperware bowl with the diameter of a large steering wheel filled to the brim with the good candies (Nestlé Crunch and Tootsie Rolls). Jean even went outside at five o'clock to sweep not just the sidewalk, but the left half of our driveway so folks would have a clean and easy path to our door.
Early indications were promising: our first visitor stopped by before six o'clock, which I've always considered the official beginning time for trick or treat. For a moment, a flash of worry ran through me that we might not have enough candy to satisfy all comers. I didn't need to worry. By six thirty, two more families from across the street had stopped by. Sadly, that's it. It's now after nine thirty, long past the official ending time for Halloween. We've turned the lights back to normal and even let the dogs loose in the house again. We're done for the year.
So our fifth year of quiet Halloweens comes to an end. Next year will probably be our last chance to have tons of visitors: baby will be about nine months old, so we'll be home-bound. After that, we'll be the ones travelling around the neighborhood looking for goodies.
© 1998 Kevin J.T. Creamer