With every October 31st here, it seems like the days get instantly colder. Halloween night is, in my memory, always the night where I end up wishing I’d thrown on a coat when I’m out.
There’s something magically seductive about being outside on Halloween night. As long as I can remember, I’ve tried to be out and about as late as I could whenever that night rolled around; something about the moonlight, or maybe the cool, crispening breeze. Or maybe it’s the mystique we attribute to the night itself.
Halloween, or Hallowed Evening, has always had other-worldly connotations. The original celebrants called it Samhain (pronounced “Sah-win”) and saw it as the beginning of winter, when the spirits would return to walk among them. Today we still carve jack-o-lanterns and give out candy to kids dressed up in masks.
I think it’s important, though, as the year draws to a close, and that ethereal window opens, to pause and to remember. To remember those no longer with us, and those we’ve had to be thankful for this past year. When our family carves jack-o-lanterns, we like to think of it as a reminder to those who have touched our lives that they won’t be forgotten, and hopefully that light can help them find their way back to our hearts.