“No,” Rachel said.

“It sounds overdue.”

Karen walked away.

We never looked back.

Real Halloween

Our new neighborhood had no HOA.

The sidewalks were cracked.

The houses didn't match.

One mailbox was shaped like a fish.

Another yard had three garden gnomes, two pink flamingos, and a skeleton that appeared to have been there since the previous Halloween.

Nobody cared.

Our first Halloween there felt almost suspicious.

Porch lights stayed on after seven.

Then eight.

Then eight-thirty.

Kids came in waves.

Tiny children first.

Older children later.

Teenagers last.

Some apologized for being old enough to drive themselves.

Rachel handed out candy until the bowl was nearly empty.

Then she opened the emergency chocolate.

At 8:47, a little girl in a pumpkin costume came up our walkway holding her father's hand.

She was sleepy.

Her face paint was smudged.

One shoe was untied.

She whispered:

“Trick or treat.”

Rachel dropped candy into her bucket.

I added another piece.

The little girl smiled as though we'd just saved the world.

After she left, Noah stood beside me.

He was eleven by then.

Old enough to understand more than I wanted him to.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“This is what Halloween was supposed to be, right?”

I looked down the street.

Children laughed beneath orange lights.