The commemoration of the things that go bump in the night.

Or just get candy and have high fructose induced comas.
It felt like all the kids were held behind starting gates until the stroke of official sunset, preparations made, sidewalk and street side conferences to coordinate the pre-/post handout activities and last minute scrambles to fill dishes drinks and chairs. The sun slowly makes its way to the horizon giving the typical Denver broncoesque finality to the day. Then the bells rang, and the gates opened in a Kentucky derby like start. Kids and adults swarm onto the sidewalks of the neighborhood. One moment the sidewalks were empty, the next, tiny swarms of mermaids, spidey- men, princesses, and pirates dragging glittery metallic bags of goodness speed trudged up the path, the clunk-swoosh-clunk of snow boots on dry pavement a tribute to parental preparation to send the brood out amongst the elements in search of manna from Mars (the candy people).
Folks in our area go with the kids; everybody sort of knows everybody; the ones with kids stroll along the fringe, while the little ones dart in and out and up and down the driveways. The age of the kids is gauged by the distance the parents keep. The younger they are, the closer the parents are. Most have an adult beverage to smooth the wait, as this is thirsty work, and refills along the way are frequent as we as hander-outers appreciate the need to refill. At each stop, the phrase “Did you say thank you?” repeated time after time; one must lubricate the vocal cords.
The returning mini Jedi surrendered the holy grails, the candy receptacles, to larger more capable hands. The older ones are out, alone or in bands speed treating their way to sugar induced nirvana. The lone rangers are faster more agile, they wait for no-one, they strike and move, whispers and ghosts on the ribbon of sidewalk connecting each source. One by one the porch lights go out as the supplies dwindle to nothing in the bowl.
And as they came; they suddenly disappeared…
How long we wait to confirm it is over is determined by many factors the most important being how cold/hot, wet it is compared to how comfortable we stayed. And like a ER trauma Doc we call it, it’s over, turn out the lights, determine the status of the pumpkin, do we leave out only to clean it up in the morning when round three hooligans smash it? Clean up, get inside, get warm, get dry, get cool, get whatever it is we get. Another one for the books…