Halloweeny Time

                        

I went trick-or-treating with the kids around my old 'hood tonight.  It was kind of surreal.  I haven't walked around there in a very, very long time.  So weird to think that I spent the first 17 years of my life confined to those blocks.  The big Partition Street hill didn't seem nearly as big this evening.  I didn't get winded walking up it.  Flashbacks of past Halloween costumes came to me as I sat on the ledge in the kitchen where my now overgrown behind used to perch beautifully.  I've been Wednesday Adams, Cruella DeVille, a bag of money, a nun (as a baby - that was my first costume), an alien, Dorothy, the Pillsbury Dough Girl, a rainbow with a pot of gold... It was a nice feeling to walk around and not be terrified that someone was going to pelt me with an egg.  I guess some high school gang-like group used to haze its members and battle each other right along my trick-or-treating route.  Since I'm always the one to get hit in the head with stray basketballs and soccer balls and baseball bats, I always kind of feared for my life.

Never fell into that game where, as a rule, it seems that adolescent and 20-something girls take Halloween as an excuse to dress skankily.  Instead of striving for glances, I usually end up being something that I find super-ridiculous.  As a grown woman I've been a power ranger (wore the plus-sized kids costume), a spoon, The Snuggler, and Werewolf Bar-Mitzvah.  I may not have gotten any phone numbers, but I sure got some high fives of appreciation.  And that's way more meaningful.  Anyone can wear nothing and get stares, so who the hell really cares?  All hail the creative and the absurd!

I really like this time of year, but at the same time there's this weird kind of dark wistful feeling that comes with it.  After all the candy is eaten and you realize you're almost done with another year.  Things start to wind down, more layers are worn, the days all start late.  I can't really explain.  Walking around in the dark.  Wet leaves.  Holidays.  And then snow.  And then the thaw.  And then more snow.  The end of Holidays.  The clean-up.  Unpacking.  Overeating.  Over-heated offices.  Under-heated living rooms.  

Seasonal Affective Disorder happens for a reason.  I wonder how much poetry and music we'd be missing if it didn't exist.  Channel your inner darkness!  Maybe you'll win a Grammy!  Or be a poet laureate for some random small town!  You never know.