Desperate to Trick-or-Treat

“Dad, what should I wear this year for Halloween?”

“You’re too old to go trick-or-treating. I told you that last year.”

“Aw … No fair.” Ian threw himself onto the couch.

I studied him while the memory of nights carrying a heavy bag full of goodies sent a familiar thrill down my spine. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. We’ll go to our neighbors and you can ask their parents if we can take their kids. If the parents say yes, you can go out but only on this block.”

Ian jumped up with a whoop.

I rose from my chair. “Wait for me!” But he was already out the door.

A half-hour later, we trudged back in and Ian hurled himself on the sofa.

Sandi raised her eyebrows. “Bad news?”

I nodded. “Everybody who was going wanted to take their kids.”

Sandi sat beside him on the sofa and rubbed his back. “Don’t worry. We’ll have our own Halloween party. How does candy and a scary movie sound?”

“All right, I guess. I just wish I could go again.”

I sat on the other side of him. “What’s so special about Halloween? You can get candy, go out at night or play dress-up almost any time. What’s the big deal?”

Ian stared at the floor. “Yeah, but it’s not the same if it isn’t Halloween.”

“Do you remember other Halloweens when you had so much fun?”

He nodded.

I pulled him to me in a big hug. “I went trick-or-treating when I was little. Over 50 years past, and I still remember those nights.”

“You went more than 50 years ago? And you still remember?”

“Yup. Can you hold on to your memories for half a century?”

Ian was silent for a moment, then nodded his head. “Yeah, I think so.”

William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.