Today, on Halloween, I think of these sweet memories: Nicole Harris and I, tromping through the neighborhood in homemade costumes wed had planned since June, giddy and mischievous and acting out Hocus Pocus; Krissy Bohrman and I parading down Orange St in Selinsgrove dressed as middle-aged women, terribly embarrassed yet viciously proud of ourselves as sophomores in college; a Kalani evening celebration, the painting of faces in the art shed, the cheap bottle of passed-around wine, the friendship between Meaghan Eady and I still new and forming; my dear mother Eileen Duddy Nichols who always made this holiday so special for me (and so many others), by excitedly decorating the front porch in all kinds of kooky cobwebs and dummies wearing Dads old work clothes, ignoring the neighbors neatly manicured decor (how wonderfully goofy our house always looked) even going as far as getting us a legitimate caldron one year and convincing me down to my very soul that she saw a witch fly across the sky. And lastly, dearest Cyder, who loved Halloween more than anyone, loved the walking around the front yard freely, the parades of kids, the excitement in my mothers voice. I never saw anything like it. He was like a little boy on Christmas all those years, and I hope hes somewhere, somehow doing the same.
Posted on: Thu, 31 Oct 2013 17:54:22 +0000
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