As a child I wanted to be something awesome for Halloween. I knew if I had the right costume, people would like me. I thought I wanted to be Sleeping Beauty, but a girl at school was. She finally got her kiss and so much more nine months later. So I dressed up as Squiggy from Laverne and Shirley. The precise opposite of a princess, which didn’t win any popularity contests, as dressing up like a boy is never a good look for me. I quit costumes the next time October 31 rolled around. It probably didn’t help that I got the Mumps that year; there was no trick-or-treating for me anyway.
That didn’t stop me however from constructing a mask, which I wore 24/7. I didn’t want the world to know that underneath my cool exterior, I was an abandoned daughter looking for daddy in every man I knew, and even in some I didn’t.
Many moons and Halloweens later, I hit rock bottom face first and shattered my mask. I floundered for awhile trying to figure out who I was and battling the desire to stay hidden.
God won the war and I gave up masks and costumes for good.
I don’t begrudge anyone, good, clean October 31 fun. And I love seeing the brilliant use of imagination in every costume.
But when you come to my door, you’ll get the real deal; scary or not.