“It’s a comedy,” my friends said.
When we pulled into the parking lot, I realized they’d lied. They wanted to see Alien 3. They thought that if they got me to the theater, I’d have to watch the movie. Then I’d realize how much fun scary movies were.
“You can go see the movie if you like. I’ll wait,” I said. They did not think I’d wait in the car for two hours. But I had a book to read.
I’ve been called uptight and stubborn more than once.
The blood and gore isn’t what is magical about Halloween. I prefer something closer to Dia de los Muertos, and though I have recently spoken to a medium, I don’t mean talking to the dead. Just honor them. Remember them. Tell a story about the ones who’ve died and you’d like the world to remember.
Don’t we tell stories to remember?
My mother wore an over-sized fuzzy robe, socks, large hoop earrings, and glasses. She sit like this on weekend mornings, drink her coffee and eat almost burnt toast. It was when she laughed the most. In my memories anyway.
Share a story someone else ought to know.