Some Words...

I've always loved Halloween, not for the candy since I don't have much of a sweet tooth but for the chance to dress up as someone else, someone people wouldn't recognize. I suppose it was a chance to hide but regardless of the reason, the memories that I hold are dear to me so I wanted to share one with you.

When I was five my grandpa (my dad's dad) came to take us trick-or-treating. Him being there was a treat in itself because my father didn't get along with him well so he rarely made appearances at our house. I remember sitting around the dinner table with anticipation of the moment I could put my ballerina costume on so my grandpa could see I really was his 'little princess'. My mom had made liver for dinner; I hated liver. My father in his futile attempt to remain 'King' of the house told us we couldn't leave the table until every last bit was gone off our plate. I tried to eat it but every bite caused me to gag. I even tried to hide some of the pieces in my napkin until my mother figured out what I was doing and took it away. I dropped pieces down to my dog whom we nicknamed 'Hoover' after his ability to wipe the floor clean of every morsel of food, but even he refused to eat liver. Somehow my brother managed to choke down all of the liver off his plate and my father excused him from the table so he could join his friends 'tricking'. There I sat, alone. When I think back to that moment I think that was the beginning of the long string of events that would leave me feeling exactly the same way. My grandpa was angry at my dad for making such a big deal out of a kid not liking liver. They argued and my father refused to back down so my grandpa sat down at the table with me. He put his hand over mine and winked and somehow I instantly knew that even if I did miss out on trick-or-treating it would all be ok. And then...my father looked away long enough for my grandfather to shove all the nasty liver pieces into his pocket. We sat there for a few more minutes and then he exclaimed, "good job princess, now you can go put that costume on." My dad turned around with a look of satisfaction on his face, he had won - or so he thought. My grandpa and I walked hand in hand to each house in our neighborhood as I collected my 'treats'. I remember coming home when we were done and sorting the candy into piles of 'good, bad, and ok' as I sampled one piece from each. I don't think that candy ever tasted as good as it did that Halloween thanks to the man who was brave enough to pull the wool over my father's eyes.

Happy Halloween.