All Hallows Eve

The long kitchen counter was set with food more resembling a Thanksgiving feast rather than Halloween. Dark orange pumpkin pies flanked one end of the counter with the golden brown roasted turkey rising from the other end. In between were all manner of colors from the pale green and yellow of vegetable dishes to the bright red cranberry sauce. Nearby the battered kitchen table held eight table settings. Through the door to the living room the fireplace crackled merrily and wisps of light shone from the two jack o’lanterns on each side of the door to the porch. Wisps of smoke from the roaring bonfire outside tickled the nose. Dusk dissipated until the sky shone black, clouds occluding both moon and stars.

“Oh, I’m so happy!” the young woman greeted the older couple. Her black dress fluttered about her keens as she hurried to them. Her encircling arms vanished as she tried to hug them. “Oh, right. Look but no touch.” She stepped back and viewed the kitchen. “You have outdone yourselves this year.”

A middle aged couple walked into the kitchen followed by a young couple holding a baby. A preschooler dressed as a pumpkin hung back at the kitchen door. The young woman run to them, “Oh, Louis and Melinda, Nancy and Ben.” She waved her finger at the baby, “How are you, Jessica.” Turning to the preschooler, she asked, “And have you gotten a lot of Halloween candy?” She smiled as the youngster nodded.

Holding out her arms, the young woman said, “Well, sit, eat. I’m sure you must be hungry. Though surely, you are a feast to my eyes.”

The older man stepped to the turkey, while the older woman moved along the dishes, removing lids and inserting serving spoons. The middle aged woman joined her while the younger woman handed the baby to her husband and took pitchers from the fridge and set them on the table. Beside the kitchen window above the sink, a clock ticked away the time. The view through the window was a dull black rectangle.

They sat at the table quietly chatting among themselves while eating the harvest foods. Fragments of conversation drifted through the air along with the scents of warm yeast bread, turkey gravy, and the more subtle scents of cinnamon and nutmeg.

“More bean casserole?”

“How was school?

“The traffic was so bad.”

“Had to pick up the rake. Can’t believe someone forgot it. What if a kid stepped on it?”

“She’s growing so fast. Would you believe I had to go out and get the next size?”

The young woman pushed her brown hair back from her face. “College is so busy. Why I have to study hours in a day. I like to put on music so I can concentrate better.”

The older woman solemnly nodded. “Studying is good. How are your grades?”

“Oh, they are good. I made a C on my first quiz, but now I know what to study. Silly professors can’t trick me.”

The little boy had taken off his pumpkin hat. He giggled and held out his hand. “Trick or treat.”

The young woman gave him a high five. “All treats for you.”

The dinner done and put away, the family group moved into the living room. The baby slept in her car seat. The little boy had long fallen asleep on a stuffed chair where he lay cacooned in an orange and brown afghan. The TV quietly murmured a late night show. Down the hall to the bedroom, a clock ticked, its long hand inexorably moving to the Roman numeral twelve. By the baby, the mother of the baby drowsed. The young man was poking at the fireplace. “Should I go get some more wood,” he asked of no one in particular.

The older man and woman sat on the couch before the TV, not really watching it. Their eyes tracked across the little group around them. The young woman sat cross legged beside the baby, her face smiling as she glanced back at the older couple.

The clock’s gong sounded, strike one, two, three…. By the time it reached twelve, the young woman’s form faded away. The older woman rose. “Holly. We always love you.” She asked the middle aged and younger couple, “Let me turn back the beds for you. You can always spend the night.”

The middle aged man kissed her cheek and reached to huge his father. “No, no. We’ll be getting back. We’ll stay longer at Thanksgiving when we don’t have to go to work in the morning.”

The visitors exited out the front door, passing by the jack o’lanterns that had long since gone out, as had the bonfire.

The older man said, “Come to bed, Myrtis.”

She answered, “In a minute.” She wandered back into the kitchen, checking to see if everything was put away. She took a cup from the table and moved it to the sink. Looking out of the blank kitchen window, she murmured, “Oh, Holly. You don’t have to keep coming back. I mean, I’m glad to see you, but rest child.”

Was the cold air moving across her cheek, her daughter, long dead in an auto accident so many years ago? Or was it merely an autumn wind? She always had her doubts, except on Halloween, All Hallows Eve, when the dead can cross the thin veil between life and death. Seeing her daughter once again, she had no doubts at all that she loved her, and that her daughter loved her.