I watch my younger sister with interest as she tops off her witch costume by pulling down the bombastic hat on her head. Suddenly, the doorbell rings loudly throughout my house like a gong. I take one more glance at my sister before finding my way down the stairs and to the front door. It begins now.
With a gulp, I begin to slowly pry open my door. “Trick or treat!” I hear before I can open the door completely. My eyes fall upon three small children, each in unique attires. I curiously scan them one by one while greeting them warmly and dropping handfuls of mini chocolate bars into their containers. There was nothing quite eye catching among this group, just your typical masked Scream, some failed attempt at a ghost, and something that I really couldn’t discern, but looked like a hybrid of a dead goat and a llama.
After watching them wander off joyously, not a single thank you received, I start to wonder; what has happened to my Halloween lately? The previous two years of Halloween, I’ve loitered my time by glaring at my homework with the intensity that could char the hardwood table underneath it. In addition, I would enjoy the thrilling experience of listening to the barrages of the doorbell ring while I dealt with researching the literary significance of Halloween.
My younger sister comes down the stairs now and prepares to leave on her thrilling journey for mouth-watering caffeinated sweets. She opens a closet and begins to rummage through it. I peer in as well and notice some of my old costumes that I wore back in elementary.
Elementary, that was a time where a whole day of school was set aside to celebrate Halloween. I recall wearing a pumpkin costume that was so wide that, with my vertically challenged height, I had the proportions of a hamburger. The following year, I one-upped that plump outfit with a charming cow costume. Despite all the time I spent frolicking around in that ridiculous appearance, there was no doubt that I was absorbed within the heat of the Halloween intensity. I could blunder my time trying to eat an apple that was dangling from a string with no hands. I could run around in a Pokémon mask and pretend I could shoot fire from my mouth. I could even go on a harrowing journey where I had to grind it out on my blazing scooter that could occasionally hit five miles per hour.
An amused grin spreads on my face as I watch my sister find a pillow case, which I expect to return as large as a mountain. Sadly, the last time I remember seeing one of those monstrous loads being lugged into my house was back when I was in junior high. At that point, I had lazily put on a cap and wrapped a glow stick around it and called it a costume.
I now ponder why I bothered to go trick-or-treating that Halloween night. Could it be that the creamy milky goods lured me to the streets like a snake to eggs? I dismiss that possibility quickly though. After all, when you live in a house at the rear of a dead-end, there tends to be a lot of leftover chocolate. I then consider if I was pressured to go. However, that didn’t seem like the case either after a second thought.
My sister now opens the door to leave. I wonder if I should go with her. She turns to look at me curiously. I avoid her stare though and decide it’s not worth it. It hits me now that Halloween just wasn’t the same anymore. I didn’t feel the same active energy when I was in elementary. The thought of walking miles and miles for candy seemed like running a marathon to me now. In addition, if I had built up any excitement, it would come and go like a flash since I would concern myself with preparing for a test the very next day. In short, I’m not like my sister or those three kids that came to my house earlier.
Trick-or-treating? It just doesn’t really suit me anymore. However, I’ve never been one to say that a person is too old to trick-or-treat. Rather, I think you’d be pretty naive if you really desired to, but decided not to in fear of how you looked in others’ eyes. Let me ask you now, did you enjoy how you spent your Halloween?