I’m
calling it.
Time
to turn out the lights.
If
9pm arrives and not a single superhero or ghost has arrived at
your door, I think it’s fair to shut things down.
No
knocks.
No
bell.
9pm.
They’re
not coming at all.
Not
that I’m surprised. The chance of surprise when no one knocks
on Halloween ended more than two decades ago. Since then, it’s
really just been extending the streak. Since moving out of my
parents’ house I’ve lived in four different places on Halloween.
I have never—not once—been visited by a trick-or-treater.
I’ve
always had some candy ready to go. I’ve always been prepared.
If someone had arrived, I would open the door and smile and laugh
and tell them how fantastic they looked. I’d scoop out handfuls
of goodies and wave to the parents. I’d play along and have a
wonderful time. I would enjoy it.
Instead,
there’s an empty bowl on the kitchen island. A bag of candy I
haven’t yet opened sits next to it. This is hardly the kick off
to the holiday season I was expecting from adult days when I was
younger. Back then I pictured myself picking up a few bags of
candy for the kids, along with at least one extra bag of my favorite
candy that I would tell myself was just in case I needed it. (In
reality, it would be for placing on the table next to a recliner
in the living room. I would enjoy a piece or two while watching
television. (Or, more precisely, where I would be falling asleep
until the next time the bell rang. Then I’d sit back down, have
a piece of candy, and close my eyes for a moment until the doorbell
rang again.))
There
are times when I find myself wondering if kids are trick or treating
at all these days. Do kids still dress up and go out? Or has the
latest generation of neighborhood wanders put away their pillow
cases and moved on to themed couples costumes at parties? Sure,
there’s a bit of sarcasm in the questions, but I think I’m mostly
being serious. It’s not like there’s been a drop in the number
of knockers at my door over the years. I’ve never had one. I’ve
got nothing to measure it against.
I
was talking to my mother about it, and she replied in a way where
you could tell that the more she thought about it, the less she
knew. At first, she said they definitely have more candy left
over each year. She has bought the same number of bags, and roughly
the same number of pieces for a few years. And over the past five
or so, she knows there’s been a steady increase remaining at the
end of the evening.
That
was the easy part of her thoughts.
Then
she mentioned that she and my father alternate door duty more
these days. Instead of opening it together to see the neighborhood
children, or in some cases the older kids that my sisters and
I grew up with returning with their children, many of the goblins
and scarecrows remain unidentified as they move along the walkway
into the darkness. So, she paused, as if realizing she doesn’t
know if they’re really are answering the door less often or not.
Then she finished with this kicker: “I do know your father isn’t
sneaking as many pieces as he used to.”
If
no one has ever thrown you a surprise birthday party, then you
probably understand the likely never fulfilled but always lurking
in a deserted corner of the mind thought that perhaps this year
will be the year it happens. In way, that’s my approach to Halloween
now. I expect it to be quiet. I don’t believe anyone is going
to show up. But maybe this is the year. There is no way I’m going
to ignore it and wind up digging in a jar of loose change for
something to give the kids because I didn’t buy any candy.
For
this year, however, the lights are out. Time to lock the doors
and put some things away. There won’t be any visitors tonight.
But next year… next year, all that changes. And I’ll be telling
myself that as I wait in the checkout line with a couple of bags
of candy. You know, just in case.