Late November reminds us that, no matter how beautiful the fall season is, the truth is, everything around us is dying.
Things look so vibrant and alive in October that it’s easy to forget that fact. The world is alight with the colors of a happy, cozy fire. What could be more celebratory than that?
Late November, though. That is a different type of fall. The once-colorful leaves, ablaze in shades of orange and red and yellow, are now all brown and withered. Most of them have fallen now, but the ones that haven’t are lonely and brittle, clinging to their trees by the thinnest of thread. It paints a desperate picture, watching those last little leaves cling to life. The color has gone out of them and yet they hang on, as if afraid of being forgotten.
The clock ticks on, from Halloween, to Thanksgiving, and now nearing December. The trees begin to illuminate again, but this time artificially, as the residents of the homes they surround dutifully attach lights to their branches in preparation for the upcoming holiday season. It can be a pretty sight, but so manufactured compared to the fire of natural leaves. It starts to feel like autumn was never here at all, as if it were some beautiful dream, forgotten by most when November arrived, and now abandoned by all after Thanksgiving.
Do you ever think you’re crazy? Like you’re the only person who remembers the joy of the season gone by, like you’re always actively searching for its ghost?
No sooner do you have that thought, when you see it. An actual ghost of Halloween, floating from the trees in front of an otherwise undecorated house. Clinging to life and longing to be revered, just like the brown leaves that dance around him, sadly and mournfully, when the wind blows.
He faces toward the street, greeting passers-by as if Halloween is still in the very near future. He gives you a brief version of that flutter of excitement you feel when the first neighbor puts up the first decoration of the Halloween season. You wonder if anyone else has noticed him, and you wonder how and why he is still there.
Was he simply forgotten, when the rest of the decorations were taken down? Is there perhaps a child in the house who grew attached to him and requested that he stay up a little bit longer? Or is it possible that the owners of the house are, at least a little, like you? Is it a mere coincidence, or is the ghoul there purposely to try and keep the Halloween flame burning, as the rest of the world moves on like it never happened at all?
Regardless of the circumstances, you are glad that he’s there. Halloween already feels so far away, even though it didn’t happen all that long ago. Sometimes you almost do question if it’s all a dream, but then a sight like this reminds you that it’s all very real, very beautiful, and always on its way back around.
There are ghosts of Halloween, and they will appear, to those of us that know how to look for them.
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