The kids came. “Trick or
Treat!” Voices – jubilant, some timid,
and a few even hurriedly
greeted me each time I opened the door. What fun! I felt it was a great time for them and truly a
joy for me. My children had been grown
for many years, so these costumed youngsters with their expectant greetings
were delightful. Smiling guardians
patiently watched from the sidewalk. I
liked that.
Late afternoon and dusk had turned to
dark night when the doorbell rang for most likely the final time that Halloween. Three little ones held out their pumpkin,
ghost and witch decorated plastic bags. Responding
to the option given me, “trick or treat”, I put a couple Milky Ways, Reese’s
Peanut Butter Cups, and Snickers in each bag.
Promptly they turned to scurry down the steps. It was only as I looked after them did I see
the young Mother on the porch also. But
as she moved toward the door I hoped my face didn’t show my concern. Quite a thin young woman, she was carrying a
boy child, not at all a baby or toddler.
Perhaps he had insisted on not walking another step. (I remember those times.) It had gotten late.
My mind was wishing, for her sake, she could have insisted he walk.
The Mom looked tired, pleasant
but tired. The boy laid his head on her left shoulder and she positioned the bag
hanging at her right elbow toward my hand offering the candies. I dropped them into his decorated bag. She thanked me; the youngster’s eyes did
also.
“Happy Halloween”, I said, my eyes following them, hoping she would convince him
to walk down the steps. Then, there on
the sidewalk, I saw the wheelchair.
He was secured and off they went.
He was secured and off they went.
I’ll
never forget the blessing of that Mother and child’s visit to my front door one Halloween night a few years ago.
