There's something about the light this morning---this crack-the-cusp and slide into November---that the door revealed as I opened it to the front lawn. There were only leaves there---damply scattered though there'd been no rain. Only leaves to remark the eager little hordes who graced our porch last night. Something about those small beings---four hundred of them, usually, and surely that last night---they left absolutely nothing in their wake.
No abandoned beer cups, no wrappers or forlorn band-posters nor ticket stubs---yet-to-concert young 'uns assured the absence of emptied BICS and the limp exhaustion of light wands and necklaces---just the same grass with the same leaves. The lawn was untrodden and smooth, with their wake pristine as water closing after a boat. And there WAS a tide---in fact quite several, and perhaps a budding tsunami a time or two, but they honored the lawn, and scurried all the way to the driveway turn to get to me, between the two lanterns marking the walk-posts, and right to my lap with my feet dangling from the porch. They had seen me in my gaudy glory, immense pink witch hat with veil, pink outfit from cardigan to slacks to clogs, with stripey witch stockings in between, as generations have seen me and anybody else of the house, year-to-year, since we moved here in 1997.
The schedule for the "town" is listed as 6 to 8, but a lot of Mamas have gotten the word about the rich pickin's in our little area, and a cavalcade of cars and SUVs begins before 5:30, when I'm usually out, in every weather but pouring, with handy carpet-panels aligned along the porch, for any sitting helpers who come along. The firsts are some of the littlest---tee-ninecy ladybugs and small pirates and enough princesses to re-stock every Kingdom on Earth should there be a shortage. One wee Buzz Lightyear so small as to be merely a happy lower-case "bz" strode his toddler steps up to me, grinning wide, and the plethora of comic and cartoon and HERO UNIVERSE and after-school TV and astronomically diverse little characters made their way into my heart.
The tides DID ebb and flow, with little lapses when I just sat and rocked out to the EVERYTHING HALLOWEEK neighbor's soundtrack of Monster Music---I even stood up and danced to Time Warp one time when the lawn was not filled with Kiddos. And Monster Mash---even the Next-Door Parents didn't believe I knew the words to Monster Mash and could approximate a bit of Boris's accent.
But when the surges came, they came BIG---twenty or thirty would come up the driveway, minding their manners, and a great colorful sway would be in front of me, almost every one with a Happy Halloween, or How You Doing? and absolute respect for the moment---nobody grabbing, nobody pushing---just a quick reach and drop into bags and pumpkins, and somehow the THERES were replaced with the Next In Lines, and it went so well, it was as if they'd practiced both approach and depart with precision. The smiles and the happy faces at the shining silvery packs of sweets---and my waving up of all chaperones, caretakers and other grown-ups, with "Drivers always eat!"---what fun and shrill little thank yous, and over-shoulder shouts of thanks from that minimultitude---one of my high spots of the year. I didn't hear a single protest or wail or loud voice all evening, save for the friendly greetings of the once-a-year recognitions.
Shy teens-and teens-plus DID sort of shrink a bit til I always said, "You're NEVER TOO GROWN-UP" and then there were great smiles. And some old familiars DID scan around the porch for Paxton, and inquire "Where's your TURTLE?" missing her presence from other years. Every one brought a gentle pang, but the evening went on beautifully. I stood up and carried the pan to the sidewalk entrance whenever I saw a visitor who might have trouble negotiating that small space, or toddler whose proud parent hung back and let them SHINE.
And thus I met the COSTUME OF THE YEAR---I have at least one memorable one every year, and unless it's an absolutely Hollywood-perfect attire and makeup beyond the pale, it's almost always a thought-up or Homemade one that catches me. The little family---two littles in charming costumes, and a Mom and Dad, with Dad trundling a full-size garbage bin, shiny with aluminum foil of its crafting on the dolly, and with a clever sign I cannot quite recall, with a tiny being inside who rose up on cue and waved his arms. What a thought, and what a loving, albeit uncommon, piece of workmanship and deft navigating of all these crowded blocks, of that sweet Daddy for his child.
And so it went---not a whimper, not a scowl, not a blip---one more lovely Halloween in this little neighborhood. We closed the doors and turned off the lanterns at about 8:15 and went in to have our dinner of two baked potatoes with fixin's awaiting in the oven. Perfect evening, once again.
