We won’t be home tonight to hand out Halloween candy to Trick-or-Treaters. We’ll be at the movies instead, watching something my guy wants to see since the last movie we saw together was a chick-flick, and we’re all about taking turns. It is a good decision, this one, to go to the movies instead of staying in and serving candy. It took us about 39 seconds last night to decide this course of action. Honestly, my guy could care less about Halloween (Oh, to be more like him!), and for me, the “holiday” is bittersweet.
Friends have been posting cute Facebook photos of their little decked-out darlings, the kids so thrilled with their costumes and the promise of candy, they are nearly leaping out of my computer screen in excitement, well except for the tiniest baby and he just looks a tad confused. Two sets of girlfriends rejoiced, at the ages of 40 and 42, with babies, which while I’m delighted for them, there is still a twinge of sadness in my soul; the opportunity to have a baby (babies) eluded me.
We had our share of Halloween parties this weekend, two scheduled for the same night had we wanted to party hop (we opted not to). And a good time was had by all. The Letter “F” was celebrated at the party we chose to go to. My guy dressed as a “Fork in the Road” and I went as “Farrah Fawcett”. While, my guy’s costume involved a lot of white and yellow duck tape on black clothing and a fork taped to his belly, mine involved breaking out the hot rollers and layers of hair spray to achieve “Farrah Hair”, a style option I
left behind after high school. It’s not that we’ve been left out of Halloween altogether, it’s just that Halloween itself, the way it is celebrated in neighborhoods like ours (a sweet little, well-manicured, mid-western sub-division), the Trick-or-Treating brings home
the reminder: the excitement buzzing in the air today isn’t something in which
I can fully participate.
Last year we handed out candy. This year, we are taking a different approach. Perhaps, over time, this “holiday” won’t have such a great a hold on my psyche, the sense of loss, that I’m missing out on something. I like the idea of Halloween being linked to the Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced sow-an), derived from the Old Irish, Samuin, meaning “summer’s end. Falling on the last day of Autumn, Samuin was a good time to take stock, prepare for the coming cold. Bonfires were built to ward off the spirits, as this time of year the physical and supernatural world melded more naturally, due to darkness arriving earlier and earlier each evening, I presume. (Paraphrased from Wikipedia)
Perhaps next year, we’ll host a small dinner party, celebrating the Autumnal nature of
the holiday. Instead of a huge bonfire, to ward off the spirits, we’ll stoke our wood-burning stove, and raise a glass to the magical things that can happen when we live in a world completely of our own making, free of sadness, and ripe for new traditions. This year, admittedly, I am still living with a foot in the past, wishing for something that isn’t.
A small nod towards this future is the picture of a SMALL part of my basil harvest this year: jars and jars of pesto line my freezer for those bitterly cold days in Winter when we need a gentle reminder of summer. Quite possibly, here is the genesis for next’s dinner party theme: Home-made pizza. Pesto as a base for pizza is a beautiful thing. Fresh, chopped basil on top is spectacular. And when the crust is home-made and gluten-free? One word. Abundant.