Tonight I went trick-or-treating with my best friend Mandie and her 6-year-old son, Cameron. It was highly amusing, especially since I haven't been on a trick-or-treat expedition in goodness knows how long.
Plus, it's been a good Halloween in general, from the time I woke up this morning. I had lunch with my other best pal, Alice, plus my tutee showed me some awesome magic tricks - turns out he's quite the magician - and I collected just enough fun-sized candy bars to keep from fainting before dinner.
Mandie loaned me a pair of devil horns, a tail and a pitchfork and we set about exploring the neighborhood with Cam (who was dressed as a pirate), reminiscing about how different 2013 is from 1989 and making plans for after the candy rounds. We had a delicious dinner, complete with jell-o shots and half priced appetizers (Cam fell asleep; epic sugar crash). Later on, Mandie and I topped off the night with some red wine in pumpkin-shaped goblets and a viewing of The Lost Boys. Which seemed appropriate, since I'm making the trek to Florence tomorrow to see my mom. It happens to be her favorite vampire movie.
But one of the best parts about this year's Halloween was, oddly enough, the moment when I stuck my face into Cameron's pumpkin bucket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolate, lollipops, fruit chews and other dental nightmares. That heady, sugar-and-chocolate smell rushed into my nostrils and brought me right back to my own childhood, to sitting on the floor in my grandmother's den, dumping out my own container of loot and triumphantly sorting through everything.
"That is the best smell," I exclaimed to Cameron, my nose deep inside the wrappers. "It reminds me of Halloweens from long ago."
He didn't quite understand, of course. But one day, he will. That's the thing about childhood and adulthood. You never know when you're going to find a bridge between the two.