Sneaky

When my son Owen was 4, we asked what he wanted to be for Halloween and he said “The Basement Door”. I think it was the scariest thing he could think of, and I rather agree with him. I become unhinged when confronted with the unknown. For instance I’ve always had a fear of scurrying, scuttling, unpredictable things. Mice, pigeons, unannounced guests.

This year, October was my unannounced guest. It crept up behind me and scared me right out of my flip-flops. As always it arrives in innocent costume, all blustery and bloated with sugar. But I’ve been trying to get in touch with my inner kale, so I’m not prepared for the terrifying onslaught of apple fritters, apple pie and apple crisp. And yesterday as I scurried past the fun sized Snickers display, I saw Christmas out of the corner of my eye and all hope was lost. I’m REALLY not prepared for figgy pudding.

October haunts me with the ghosts of things to come. It’s the spooky start to “lose all control” season that begins with one playful Kit Kat and ends one January day with a champagne flute full of regret and a wallet full of receipts. October is sneaky. The leaves drop silently and land without warning. The heat ticks on. A black cat may or may not cross your path. It starts with a pinecone, then a pumpkin, and soon the shelves fill with cranberry sauce and enough stuffing to sink the Mayflower, and the next thing you know you are dragging home bags of unnecessary plastic objects and gender-neutral toys to the frantic sound of sleigh bells.

I think I might have pre-traumatic stress syndrome. A fear of things about to happen, of what may happen, of what used to happen, but doesn’t have to anymore. Just because there’s one fritter, doesn’t mean there has to be more, right? I can imagine all kinds of frightful scenarios about what I can’t yet see, or I can relax and smell the cider. Because sometimes, Owen, a door is just a door.