Summer Pumpkins
It is my favorite night of the year. Every year. And no Halloween night had ever been more magical than the one and only year that I spent it with you. You helped us get into our dresses and our wigs and our crowns. You lifted us into and out of the car in our extravagant hoopskirts. And you held my hand as we followed behind my babies through the neighborhood collecting candy and walking through homemade haunted garages. There had never been such a Halloween night for me, as we walked and talked about how next year you would dress up with us too, and every year thereafter. The October air felt lovely and hopeful for the first time in a long time. I loved you so much. You told me that you loved me too. There were pumpkins on the porch. You bought one of them. My 8-year-old daughter painted it like Pennywise the clown. There were two others, painted to look like a scene from Stranger Things, and another painted as The Nightmare Before Christmas. After the most amazing Halloween night,