Because I have a six year old boy, Halloween descends upon me like a
storm of lightning and fire and mayhem that I even though I see it
coming, I don't see it coming. Because my little world doesn't do it
like we did when we were kids, there are more than one events to choose
from besides the official "real" night of trick or treating. On the
30th we went to the downtown shindig that our local town throws.
Hundreds of kids parading around in thin costumes through icy
temperatures up and down the main street, stepping into warm
storefronts for seconds at a time and collecting candy bars. Seems like
everyone is giving out the "good stuff" anymore, as opposed the select
few. Butterscotch's are a thing of the past, which would disappoint my
dad greatly if he were around to rifle through my son's pumpkin. (I
can't even say paper bag...as that has changed too.)
The next
day....or the "real" Halloween started a day long adventure. We were
headed to our old town so we could attend a birthday party for my best
friend's son's birthday part on November 1st. I figured we might as
well go the day before and then we could trick or treat around my old
neighborhood where I had spent many a Halloween walking up and down the
bumpy brick sidewalks. We spent the afternoon with my friends who
arranged my art show that I just did, and H. got to play with their
bevy of six kids. I guess this is where the exhaustion set in. ;) We
followed that up with actual trick or treating on the said 'ol stomping
grounds, spent the night w/ my sister and her little daughter. We woke
up to standard time and a fabulous huge breakfast and a beautiful day.
I raked leaves for the sole purpose of the kids being able to jump in
them and play. A perfect Fall day. That evening we went to the birthday
party at the local gym/playground thing and H. jumped right in to the
festivities of playing with ten little boys that he didn't really know,
save one. He's not shy, my boy. Though I'm not sure what the kids
thought of him. I could tell some of them warmed up to him
quickly...but one or two were put off by him a bit. It made me sad to
think that the way we are as humans can start that early in life. That
too has changed. Or perhaps I wasn't aware of it when I was little. I
remember that kids made fun of the way I laughed when I was little. And
I can tell that H. has a strikingly similar laugh, and that the kids
don't quite know what to make of it. Perhaps because he is a boy he is
not as sensitive as I was? Only time will tell. As an adult I still,
strangely wince when someone tells me how great they think my laugh is.
Because for some reason, as adults, people seem to like it. Maybe
because they don't hear laughter as much any more. Exhausted, we drove
home, listening to the new Muse album, which H. now can sing the first
couple of songs with full gusto, slightly off key in a six year old
kind of way, and filling my heart with joy.
I am telling you
this because the weekend was about H. The joy of getting handed more
candy then a mommy would ever hand out to her kid in a full year. (my
sister was completely aghast when I reported that I let H. do what I
had always done when I was a kid...which was come home that first
night, dump all the candy out into the middle of the floor, and eat as
much if it as I wanted. Try it sometime...it's freeing.) Dressing up in
silliness, whether store bought or put together by hand. The joy of
seeing friends dressed up, peering at them to recognize them. Halloween
is one of the main, simple joys of growing up a kid in America. It is
also my favorite brother's birthday. (okay, so I only have
one brother...)
But
now there is an undercurrent that was not there before, when I was a
footloose and fancy free kid. There is a constant running sadness the
lingers in and out of my days around Halloween that will never go away.
It catches me in the throat when I least expect it. And H. doesn't
comprehend why my eyes will suddenly fill with tears. I am a good
actress and I put on a brave front, but at some point, I take a breath
and wish most heartily that my father was still alive. Sometimes it is
hard to believe that he is watching over me, or around me, or in a
world that I simply can't see. Sometimes I wish that he had just died
on a normal day... a day that had no attachments to it already.
Dia De Los Muertos
was probably one of my father's favorite celebrations...he loved all
things Mexican, and tequila once upon a time. So it has seemed fitting
for the past nine years to note that he left this physical world on
November 1st. But for some reason it always just wings by me...in the
rush to make sure that Halloween is all that my little boy could want.
Perhaps
today I will build a little altar. I don't have any beer in the house
to leave. Besides it would have to be Milwaukee's Best anyway. Royce
still smokes on occasion though...so there might be a cigarette I could
find and place there. I loved
my father
so much. I wish everyone could have known him. I will miss him until
the end of my days. And I dearly hope that I will see him again.
But this has been good for me thus far because truthfully, I just don't think to draw much anymore even though I now improving my drawing skills would improve my painting. And the only way to improve your drawing skills is to draw. Every day. In my opinion. So... I've been trying. You can see what I've got going so far via this blog. 
True
