Today my alarm went off at 4:50 am and instead of rolling out of bed to run in the sleet I reset the alarm for two hours later and went back to sleep. Exactly ten minutes later D clambered down from her bunk bed threw on the lights in the hall, barged into my room to use the master bath (?), and then instead of going back to bed she plopped down on the floor and started crafting. “D. It’s way too early. Go back to bed. Happy Halloween.” Of course she cried. She was just so excited. This kid loves holidays more than anything, all the holidays, all the birthdays, all the anniversaries. Any excuse to celebrate. She gets that from her dad’s side of the family, and I’m happy to say that lust for the extraordinary parts of life have rubbed off on me too. But not Halloween. Not at 5:00 am anyway. After some tears (hers) and pleading (mine) she went back to bed for two more hours and so did I. The rest of the day was business as usual–work, school–except the sleet turned to fat flakes of snow that fell hard without stopping from 8:00 am to 5 pm. My walk home was enchanted autumn meets winter wonderland, fluffy diamond dust piled high on ruby, peridot, and amber leaves, glistening in huge swaths of fake spiders’ webs, gathering in jack-o’-lantern nooks and witchy crannies. The neighbor’s horrible ghoul collapsed in a cold heap. At home, we ate dinner so early I thought I wouldn’t be hungry, but rotisserie chicken and roasty garlicky asparagus changed my mind. We donned costumes. R in a dog mask, me in a hot dog hat, D in a full body hot dog costume with a dog mask and puppy paws. We met the neighbours out front at 5:00 pm, a whole crew of kids six and under in costumes mostly hidden under coats and parents who are game for mostly anything, and walked around the block, watching our kids clamber up slippery wooden stairs, try to ring doorbells with gloved hands, and beg their way into truly astonishing amounts of candy. The families dropped off one by one, their kids were too little and too cold, until it was just me and D left and it seemed that the snow drove even the local teenagers to turn in early. At some point it hit me that I wasn’t anxious, that I hadn’t felt anxious all day, and that this was something. Big days, social stuff, seeing friends usually winds me up tight. We stuffed hand warmers into our hands and boots and hit a few more houses that had gone on all out in the decoration department. D saw a realistic Pennywise, a realistic warewolf, several realistic zombies, and several severed limbs but never admitted defeat. I forced us back in when there were more houses with lights off than on. Back at home, we helped D with her candy dump and sort, warmed up with hot cider, and read out loud. Later, in bed, D cried, “Why does Halloween have to be over?” and talked about about Thanksgiving, calling it “The Worst.” Honestly, I get why a holiday that involves a 5k, cooked vegetables, and no presents is cold comfort at the end of Halloween, but I have no doubt that by the time Thanksgiving rolls around she’ll be bopping around my bedside at 5:00 am and eventually crying herself to sleep she will be so sad to see another good day go.