A Halloween Story (not Scary)

Today is the first day of NaNoWriMo, and also of the month in which Thanksgiving occurs. So,  a good time to get back to writing here, and also to thinking about gratitude. I have no plans to write a novel, but perhaps I can at least share a few thoughts every day.

Gratitude, for starters.

Last night, Halloween, I had had plans to go to a recital with a friend but they fell through. Then I noticed, as I hadn't before, how windy and dreary and rainy the day was. I was feeling sorry for myself that I had no one to spend the evening with.

Then I rallied, more or less. I stayed at work a bit late, got some things done that I needed to, and then I went grocery shopping, which was urgently necessary and often gets pushed to the bottom of the list with my schedule of travel for work and other things going on.

As I was at the checkout line, my phone rang. It was Handyman Guy, my friend in the neighborhood who has helped me with innumerable tasks around my apartment: putting up curtain fixtures, putting the air conditioner in the window, taking it out when the season changes, hanging pictures, you name it. Only he doesn't live in the neighborhood anymore. He's around sometimes, to help the woman who lives a couple of houses down manage her dogs, but I don't see him too often, and I miss him. He's chatty and enthusiastic and has an opinion about everything.

I answered the phone (so reflexive to want to say "picked up the phone" but of course we don't do that anymore).

"Hey, what's up?" I asked.

"Are you giving out candy tonight?"

"Oh yeah," I said. "I'm at the grocery store, I was planning to buy a bag just in case, but I forgot. Are you at J.'s  house? Are you getting any kids there?" (J. is the neighbor with dogs.)

"Yeah," he said, "there's some. I didn't know what it would be like in my neighborhood, so I came here."

"Okay," I said, "Maybe I'll see you when I get back if you're still there."

The grocery clerk was still scanning my groceries, so I dashed over to the mostly denuded Halloween candy aisle and grabbed a few bags of whatever was left.

When I got back to my street, I saw that Handyman Guy and J. were hanging out on her front porch giving out candy to trick-or-treaters. I put away my groceries and went back out to join them, with my biggest pot (the one you boil the lasagna noodles in) full of candy.

J.'s front porch has no steps. This is because her ex-husband, as she later explained, designed it this way. "He wanted a front deck," she said, shrugging her shoulders. So when I got over there, she and Handyman Guy were up above me, almost as if they were on the deck of a ship, while I awkwardly leaned against the structure, my elbow at the level where they were standing.

"Do you want to come up?" Handyman Guy asked. "You can go through the house, or you can hop over."

J. seemed a little worried about how I would hop over, and whether the railing was strong enough, but Handyman Guy leaned over, and I grabbed his arm and took the big step up and then climbed over the railing. I had a flash of a childhood memory, climbing over fences in the housing development where I grew up. So that was nice, and then it was nice to be with the two of them, chatting and leaning over the railing to hand out candy to the sporadic groups of tiny ghouls and goblins and superheroes and witches that came by, mostly spilling out of the back seats of their parents' cars since the weather was so bad. I had my big pot of candy; Handyman Guy's candy was in a colander. We thought that was funny.

We examined the candy in my pot. "What are those, white chocolate bars?" J. asked. I looked closer. No, they were candy corn bars. I felt kinda sorry for the kids who were grabbing them, hoping for chocolate and ending up with this strange thing in the shape of a candy bar. But who knows, maybe they would prove to be a bit.

Every time a group came by, Handyman Guy would explain that they should get candy from both of us, since we were actually "two separate neighbors." He would also direct them to a house around the corner that had some elaborate set-up with strobe lights.

After a while there didn't seem to be any more kids coming, it was getting chillier, and I was feeling a bit sick from eating candy and not having had dinner yet. So I said my good-byes, and Handyman Guy helped me climb back down over the side of the ship.

I am grateful for nice neighbors, and for Handyman Guy's unexpected phone call that took me into a pleasurable evening with them that I did not expect to have. And for little kids dressed up in costumes.