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October 31 and all that jazz

So, here it is, the day of my favorite holiday (which doesn't start until sundown today, thank you very much Sandy for not giving me a class that runs past sundown today).

The pork is bought, the apples picked, the turnip carved (I kid you not, a turnip the size of Modi's head). The Halloween village sits waiting for me to turn on the switch so the houses will light up, the ghosts will float, the witch will fly, and the monster rise. The Playstation will play Dracula, and the Wolfman, and a positive gluttony of Christopher Lee, and end with 6 witches floating down from the roof of a New England house.

And it will be only the three of us. Spearing a pomegranite, slicing an apple, remembering, thanking, renewing. We will think of absent friends, of poems of courage and loss, of memories burned, of huge piles of leaves with Samoyeds and squires rolling and laughing (what, you don't think dogs laugh? You need a Samoyed in your life!), and Samhain cakes.

We will think of absent friends, and children dressed to face the dark, of those beyond the veil and those who breathe on this side, too far away to touch.

We will turn out the lights, and the click click of dog nails on the stairs will be the melody that ends the year.

When we wake, we will start again.