Last night, I got home to find out that my spouse had carved a pumpkin into a Jack-o-Lantern. We haven't had a Jack-o-Lantern in years. We lit the candle inside and put it on a table in front of the fireplace. It was cozy, watching T.V. with the pumpkin flickering in the otherwise dark room.
We can't put the Jack-o-Lantern on the porch because it would rot by tomorrow. Ah, South Florida, with your strange heat and humidity that lasts and lasts. It's hard to feel Halloweeny when sweat is pouring down your body as you wait to cross the street. I'd say that it's unseasonably hot, but it's not. Every year I complain about the heat. I'm patient until the end of October. Now I want to whine.
But I won't. I've got too much to do. My sister and my four year old nephew arrive on Friday! Yes, we get to spend Halloween week-end with a real live child!!! Hence the Jack-o-Lantern. Will we go trick or treating? Perhaps. My sister said that last year my nephew was more interested in handing out candy at home.
One thing we will do that children in the upper 48 won't do: go to the beach.
Somewhere in all of this, a poem lurks.
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