Possessed

         I get up every weekday morning at 5:30, feed the animals and sprinkle birdseed on my front porch so that Copernicus, my indoor cat, can have an hour’s worth of entertainment from behind the screen door. This morning, in an act of sleep-deprived irony, I sprinkled cat food outside instead. The demons that have muddled my brain certainly have a literal sense of humor: birds are cat food – I get it. I only believe in metaphorical demons, not the Beelzebub kind, although sometimes I wonder about my cat. The camera doesn’t lie:

            Around this time of year I feel kinship with Erika Jong, whose Fear of Flying character realized that her fair-minded Christian/Jewish parents were actually raising her as a druid. My family too, with the same background, goes all out with the nonsectarian aspect of holidays. Halloween has offered us wonderful common ground and similar childhood memories to pass on to our children. We added a Halloween dinner meant to put actual food into the little ones before all that candy, which has now become nearly as mandatory a tradition as Thanksgiving. (My secret recipe for witches’ brew involves dried peas.)

       This year though, everyone is busy and feeling ambivalent about Halloween: so much carving, hanging, digging out of storage, and in our house, cooking—all for one night. Do we really care?

       The answer is yes, as long as Mom (me) does all the work. On Wednesday, with no helpers around, I put out just the minimum of fenced graveyard, lanterns and giant spiders. I discovered that my porch light wasn’t working so I set out extra flameless candles. My son came over with the baby and added a couple of mini strobes; it would have to do.

       Last night I watched Woman is Black, a ghost story with just enough spine-chills and almost no gore. The most frightening parts were the long scenes of continuing dimness with the hero repeatedly disregarding the advice don’t go chasing shadows, and inevitably finding one.

       The trick-or-treaters loved our yard and I loved them – even the teenagers. One of them said to me, “Your house is really scary.” Why? It was simply a long walk through a darkened place with the expectation of something about to happen – which it did, when my sound-activated spider dropped down beside the doorbell. It’s not about fake blood and moving skeletons and monster faces screaming. It’s setting, suspense, and surprise.