Quiet Halloween

This must be the quietest Halloween night on record for Nassau. No explosions, no fireworks, no police sirens, not even one barking dog. There has not been one trick or treater, Only the cicadas are singing in the silence. I never carved the pumpkin, it is sitting mute and orange on the desk, maybe I'll take it to the club and ask them to make a pot of soup. I lit two candles, dressed Pyper up in her Cinderella ball gown and took a picture of her by the piano, she had her Halloween party on Sunday so I didn't feel too badly about doing next to nothing to mark this night. But I am amazed at the silence for as far as I can hear. Maybe the hurricane made everyone too tired to try. Maybe the fundamentalists have finally convinced everyone to believe that this ancient, Third Harvest celebration has something to do with that red guy with the pitchfork from their scripture. I grieve a little for the old days, when I'd fill the yard with torches and jackolanterns, the house with a thousand candles, crank up the Celtic music, drink wine and hand out candy to happy little children. An era has ended, just as summer did tonight. But doesn't that mean a new one has begun? Yes. Yes it does.