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No other night makes me more sentimental for my neighborhood than Halloween night.

Each neighbor brings a different kind of excitement for my four kiddos.
“Do you think the Cox’s dog, Maggie will wear a costume?”
“Will Donna have a special treat just for us?”
“Can we see the Johnson’s baby?”
“No fair! The Kasten boys are allowed to trick or treat on their own!”
“Armory Street gives FULL SIZE candy bars!”

One of my favorite memories of Halloween night is a phone call from a neighbor across the street. It was a short conversation just as trick or treating was beginning. “Go outside and listen.” It was the sound of pure magic. 

It was that magical time of a crisp, cool, fall night- when the light is all orange. Not quite light…not quite dark. My neighbor and I stood in our doorways…listening to the sounds of childhood all around us. Sometimes, we don’t recognize the magic. But on that night, I knew we were smack-dab in the middle of the good old days.











Aaah, magic.

As Halloween approaches, I smile to myself. I know what is coming. They will run to our neighbor’s houses like an extension of their own home. I will stand on the sidewalk, with a questionable coffee mug of “cider” in my hand, and I will give thanks.

They’ve spent their lives sitting on Donna’s back porch, listening to her colorful stories.
They’ve spent their lives eating Mrs. Cox’s cookies.
They’ve spent their lives playing under the Kasten’s treehouse.
They’ve spent their lives shooting hoops at the Lehmann’s.
They’ve spent their lives playing football on the Hendren’s front lawn.
They’ve spent their lives romping through the Youse house.

Thanksgiving is a time for counting your blessings. Around these parts, I count mine on Halloween night.


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