Halloween is better.  Better when you take your little one and just let em’ loose.  It can be more intimidating than a pack of zombies, more exciting than a haunted hay ride.  I tell you, it is like watching a pack of wild animals.  Rabid, wild animals at that.  The electricity between them is intense.  It is something to behold.  They dance around the setting sun, and then howl at the rising moon, even chant at it (they really did).

They ride their bikes and chase giants.  They venture into the deep, dark woods full of fear and courage all at once.  They hurl sand, they stoke the fire, they hardly eat.  They don’t need to.  They are living off night air and companionship.  And the occasional cracker.

Sure, my little man was too afraid to head out into an unknown neighborhood and chance seeing a witch.  But, put that guy out in the wild of the pitch black evening, with a blazing fire and boys to run mad with?  He is as brave as a gallant knight.

Holidays are for the memories.  Not necessarily the ones we remember as children.  Those can be fun to recreate, but even more fun are the new creations.  The ones that just fizzle up without so much effort.  I often try to come up with some fantastic idea that will become a tradition for years to come, but as time goes on, it feels like the ones that will truly stick are the ones that just seem to happen.

I hope the Halloween waltz of the witches is one of them.  For mama’s and papa’s and babies and children alike found the evening to be something we wanted more of.

On our drive home, Miles asked us, “Is the moon going to come with us?” all we could do was smile.  Looking out the car window, we saw the most glorious pumpkin orange harvest moon, all misty with clouds rising up high.  And it was still right there with us when we got home.  Perfection.