Ronan is going to Australia on Thursday. He is not just leaving the nest, he’s leaving the continent. He’ll be gone until December on exchange, and, with Aidan away at Western, John and I will be on our own for six weeks. I mentioned casually that we should go out for dinner on Halloween, rather than pass out candy to trick or treaters. Ronan was appalled.
Ronan: What? You can’t do that!
Me: Why not? That way we don’t have to carve the pumpkins or spend the evening answering the door.
Ro: Why stop there? Why not just sit out on the porch and shoot trespassers?
Me: What do you care? You’re not even going to be here, and even if you were, you’re too old for trick or treating.
Ro: It doesn’t matter! We can’t be that house!
Me: What house?
Ro: The house with the lights out! The dark house with no one home that everyone skips because the owners are old and mean.
He’s right, of course. We can’t be that house. I guess we can’t ever be that house. If we don’t do Halloween, we will be turning our backs on a family tradition rooted in a happy childhood. We will be ignoring the community. We will officially be old and mean. So take note, little fairy princesses and spidermen. The pumpkins will be carved, and we will be open for business.