• Kate


Updated: Dec 29, 2018

Growing up Halloween was probably my favorite holiday. Of course, I had trouble sleeping on Christmas, jittery with anticipation as to what Santa would bring me. But that was a child wanting gifts, wanting things. Halloween in my house was an experience. My home was transformed, my mom went all out with decorations making our house the grand finale of the trick-or-treating route.

She would black out the windows with trash bags scattered with cutouts of menacing eyes backed in red cellophane and a strobe light. You could see these evil glares from down the street as the fiery red flashed in and out of the darkness.

As I got older my dolls were recycled into Halloween decorations, dismembered and stored in glass jars floating in green water. My life-sized Barbie, donned a witches costume, was set swaying in the upstairs window.

My mother, disguised in makeup and a purple wig, opened the door to trick-or-treaters to revel a spider infested staircase and howling music. Ghosts flew around our trees and the smoke of dry ice tickled at the front steps.

It was a marvel. Candy was not the only thing given out, my mother would never forget the neighborhood parents and offered some spiked warm beverages.

This left my dad on trick-or-treat duty, lovingly following behind his children as they ran from house to house and taking on the candy load when we became too tired to hold it. I am truly lucky to have such wonderful childhood memories.

Since then Halloween has always been special to me. Decorating and engrossing myself in All Hallow’s Eve.

8 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All