When I left the house this morning a little before six, it was drizzling. I went back inside to grab my ski parka, the only waterproof jacket I own (I should fix that). When I emerged two minutes later, the drizzle was starting to freeze and it pelted my hood in tiny percussions all through the six-block stroll to the train station. I had plenty of time to think about Halloweens past when I had to wear my coat over my costume, or long johns under it. When I was a little thing my mom used to make my costumes, and they were usually a home-made version of fuzzy footed zip-up jammies with various embellishments to make them look like some animal. My mom is really good with stuff like that. When I got a little older and more willful I didn’t want to wear a warm, fuzzy mouse costume. I wanted to be a princess (someday I will replay this frustrating drama with my own daughters). My mother relented and even made up beautiful princess costumes, but they were never very warm, and it always snows on Halloween in
I’m not dressing up today. I’m too busy, and I’d feel more than a little silly walking in to teach a university-level class in a costume and make-up. It’s the wrong setting. I used to throw huge parties for Halloween, but this year my husband has class until 9pm and I’ve got loads of homework to do and arrangements to collect data from an informant for my linguistic anthropology project. We don’t get trick-or-treaters because our building has a locked entrance. When did Halloween become just another grey, drizzle-to-snow day?
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