Every year for as long as I can remember we have had pizza for dinner on Halloween night. I was either coming in from work close to dark or I had some costume duty for one of the kids or soccer practice or something was happening that made making dinner off the table so to speak. Tonight is our first night in 20 years that we have no kids and no dog to “celebrate” Halloween with or for. There is no excited warning bark from the dog to let us know to get to the door. No kids yelling “Hi, Chip! Chip! Trick or Treat!” I actually made dinner tonight. Nothing worthy of mentioning, just that it was not pizza. Our neighborhood has gotten older, so there are fewer groups of kids. Some new, younger families have moved in that we don't know because daily trips to and from the bus stop stopped years ago. Part of me wanted to hand our candy off to a neighbor to give out and retreat to the basement. But, here we are. John is sitting out front, as are several of our neighbors, greeting the kids as they come up the driveway. I keep looking at the door thinking I should go out there too and visit. Yet, I started writing instead. I guess I'm just noticing that I really liked Halloween a lot more when there were excited kids running around, hopped up on sugar from all the parties at school, anxiously awaiting darkness to go tearing out into the neighborhood to pull in a load of candy that they would be tired of within a week. But we did have a few cutie pies to make me smile. My favorite: the little tiny guy, maybe 4 years old, who hopped into John's chair when he came in the house for a second. John came out and said, “Are you tired from all this walking?” And he said, “Yes, and this chair is comfortable.” It was so cute. Cute enough to pull me out of my pensive mood and outside to visit with the neighbors.