Halloween is my favorite time of year.
For most of the year, I look pretty much the same.
I wear my usual paint, keep my windows clean, show off a few flowers near the walkway and try to look respectable when people pass by.
But Halloween? Halloween is different.
I get to dress up.
Cobwebs stretch across my porch. Ghosts hang from my trees. Pumpkins line my walkway, their crooked smiles glowing long after the sun goes down.
For one night, nobody minds if I look a little frightening.
My windows flicker with strange lights. Shadows move across my walls. A skeleton takes his usual seat by the front door, although he isn't much help when the doorbell starts ringing.
And does it ever ring.
Witches race up my walkway. Superheroes leap over my steps.
Princesses, pirates, monsters and creatures I can't quite identify crowd around my front door shouting the same three words.
“Trick or treat!”
I hear laughter from the sidewalk. Parents call after children disappearing into the darkness. Candy wrappers crinkle. Little feet race across my lawn despite the very nice pathway I've provided.
I don't mind. Tonight, I'm part of the fun.
I've watched children grow up inside my walls. I've been here for birthday parties, Christmas mornings, first days of school and ordinary Tuesday nights.
But Halloween is different. Tonight, the neighborhood comes to me.
My porch becomes a stage. My walkway becomes a parade. My front door becomes the most popular place in the house.
Eventually, the footsteps become fewer. The last little ghost runs down my walkway. My porch light goes out. The pumpkins continue glowing for just a little while longer.
And beneath the cobwebs, skeletons and spooky shadows, I'm still exactly what I've always been.
Home.
But for one night every year...
