The chill in the air this time of year, like a clean knife, cuts the warmth of summer from our skins and breath. Like past summers, this year’s is already a memory.
Halloween defies the obvious. The cold to come, the bright crisp leaves littering the sidewalks, the darkening days. The dead are alive and children costumed fearlessly as ghouls and zombies and clowns and super humans patter through my neighborhood. Dancers and princesses and storybook Miss Muffets politely rap at a doors and beg for candy. Lions and tigers and alligators, some in daddys’ arms, pursue their treasure from behind furry faces; some trip over their tails.
What I like about Trick or Treat is that the ritual treats everyone equally, no matter what their size or age. The callers at my door last Saturday ranged from babes to teens. Some adults were costumed too, under the ploy of accompanying their children; they wanted candy too.
There should always be a time to pretend, to be what you are not, or what you think you could be, or even what you are afraid of. Imagination is not just for the young. It allows anyone to dream and soar above the chill of an ordinary dull-dressed day.