One Thursday evening as the shadows deepened into darkness, Jakey, Trey, Will and I rushed into the house two seconds before the next downpour.
“Turn on the lights, Grandma,” Jakey said. “I’m scared. It’s too dark in here.”
“Me, too, I’m scared of the dark,” Will whined.
As we started down the shadowy hall, the dark brown Bentley came barreling out of the darkness, his eyes glowing. Will started screaming and climbing me like a cat going up a tree. Jakey froze in his steps, too scared to scream, and Trey stood there trying to pretend nonchalance.
“That’s just Bentley, boys. You aren’t scared of him,” I reassured them, flipping on a light switch.
“Wow, Grandma, I thought it was a werewolf with shiny eyes,” Jakey replied. “They live in these woods you know.”
“No,” Will interjected emphatically, “zombies live in these woods.”
We snuggled in my big recliner and had a long conversation about reality versus make believe. I think I convinced them, except for the superheroes. Jakey and Will absolutely refused to believe that Batman is fictitious.
“Now, Will,” I began, “are zombies real?”
“No, Grandma, but they live in these woods for real,” he said, his eyes shining much like Bentley’s.
“How can they live in these woods if they aren’t real?”
“They just do,” he replied. “I’m just a little boy. I don’t know how. Oooooh, I think I want to be a zombie for Halloween. That’ll be so scary. Is it Halloween yet?”
It wasn’t, but now Halloween is upon us again.
My generation--or maybe just my neighborhood--didn’t pay much attention to Halloween back in the days of my youth. Mama always bought candy and Sarah Nell and I manned the door when trick-or-treaters came calling, but I don’t remember ever trick-or-treating myself. We really got into the practice when my children were little though. I made lavish and ornate costumes to the specifications of my children.
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