October 31st

It’s October 31st You’re 10 years old, Your only wish: for the school day to be over, to transform into the delicious night for trick or treat It’s going to be a long one— Each stroke of the clock, slow, laughing at you Boring number-filled books pencil shavings, and adjusting your back-pack straps on your shoulders. Early afternoon, the bell rings, You’re free— You run down autumn sidewalks, Dead leaves crunch beneath your feet, each one a reminder that you’re closer to home— To your green face paint, and prosthetic witch nose. Down the block you can smell nutmeg ghosts, leading you, steam leaves an open window, Your grandmother, baking apple dumplings and gingerbread. You don your black cape, Your pointy hat, The old heels that belonged to your aunt, A bit too big, and a bit too high, But still a perfect fit. You feel the cold brush smear paint on your cheeks, that oddly sweet, itchy feeling. You’re green, The world feels new, alive, Reeking of possibility and cinnamon. Grab your pumpkin pail, Run out the front door, To meet the moon, To feel October in your hair. The neighborhood transforms; Walkways lined with lighted skulls, Hay bales and corn stalks tied to fence posts, Jack o lanterns glowing on porch steps, Dry ice phantoms and fog billowing into the street, Your pail grows heavier with each door bell chime —With each “trick or treat”, With each song sung. It’s plastic strap begins to dig into your fist, indenting your palm— Halloween has marked you. The night winds down, Cold moths dance beneath street lights, You’re not ready to go home, You’re not ready for it to be over. One more house, One more piece of candy, One more scare, One more squeaky wrought iron gate, One more chilly gust of wind, One more year of 10 years old. They say you’ll grow out of this night, That you lose your wonder, That you will no longer dream of jack o lanterns or the haunted house on the hill, You won’t care for candy filled pillowcases and pails, Or cloth ghosts hanging from trees, Or skeleton arms reaching from gravestones, Or scarecrows perched on rocking chairs. But they don’t know, Halloween has marked you. That indent on your palm runs with your life line, goes on to the hereafter, To the autumn people, To the October souls who laugh with the wind. October 31st smells like pumpkins, candy corn, gingerbread cookies, a burning candle flame, and your favorite Halloween night from childhood. Sweetness and spice, cakes and hayrides, and all that this magical night entails!