By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. The old rhyme we know can't help but stir up memories of Halloweens past, when we were innocent. Little girls in faery costumes, puffy and wobbling under heavy winter coats. Little boys wearing completely legitimate Hogwarts robes, or weiling light sabers.
Those are the holidays I remember, when Dad used to carve pumpkins with me, bake seeds, help stew cider. But now? Oh yes, we all grow up, but I'm not quite there yet. There was no gradual slow of traditions for me, he threw me cold into the deep end of adulthood this year. My little sister still gets a slow, lazy nod when she begs for one, but where am I? The bitter eldest child sitting by the counter while they carve out guts and seeds of a plump orange gourd.
He's so distant, you know. Doesn't care much, and it rubs off on me. I'll miss myself when I'm gone, my innocent little kid Halloween-loving self, but at the moment, I choose to stomp around in the cloud of angst I seem to be carrying. Well, happy holidays, Dad, I hope you're happy where you are.
In the mean time, I'll be wandering around the neighrborhood tomorrow night, a black cat with two other lovely young women, trick-or-treating with the little kids as we do. I can't help but feel a worrisome taste settle into my mouth at this too-quick decline in my childhood. By the pricking of my thumbs, you know, I feel something far more wicked on it's way.
Love, a kiss, and sweets on Halloween.
Those are the holidays I remember, when Dad used to carve pumpkins with me, bake seeds, help stew cider. But now? Oh yes, we all grow up, but I'm not quite there yet. There was no gradual slow of traditions for me, he threw me cold into the deep end of adulthood this year. My little sister still gets a slow, lazy nod when she begs for one, but where am I? The bitter eldest child sitting by the counter while they carve out guts and seeds of a plump orange gourd.
He's so distant, you know. Doesn't care much, and it rubs off on me. I'll miss myself when I'm gone, my innocent little kid Halloween-loving self, but at the moment, I choose to stomp around in the cloud of angst I seem to be carrying. Well, happy holidays, Dad, I hope you're happy where you are.
In the mean time, I'll be wandering around the neighrborhood tomorrow night, a black cat with two other lovely young women, trick-or-treating with the little kids as we do. I can't help but feel a worrisome taste settle into my mouth at this too-quick decline in my childhood. By the pricking of my thumbs, you know, I feel something far more wicked on it's way.
Love, a kiss, and sweets on Halloween.
No comments:
Post a Comment