Halloween

Koo...pshrr, koo...pshrr.
The helmet was a little big, but the lightsaber was just right. With a hemmed cape and shiny black boots, I was invincible.
Koo pshrr, koo pshrr.
The air was misty with candy-coated promise; with streaks of mystery and ominous rumblings of thunder. My empty pillowcase hung ready to accept its burden, an incongruous capitulation against the unbending darkness of my grim attire.
Koo...pshrr, koo...pshrr.
I stood in the hallway, peering at things through the goggles, trying to discover the best cant for visibility.
“Ready?” my mom stood in a witch’s hat, buttoning a thick peacoat.
I nodded under my helmet, and waved the lightsaber redly.
Koo...pshrr, koo...pshrr.
“Did you take your inhaler?”
I hesitated. Waffled. Shook my head.
She brought it. I took it.
Koo...pshrr, koo...pshrr.
Croup was a frequent guest in my lungs, particularly on Halloween night, when November hung heavy over a Michigan sky. The cool damp air wreaked havoc on my larynx, and the excitement of Halloween crawled up my trachea. I needed albuterol near at hand.
Koo...pshrr, koo...pshrr.
“Mom. Help me take...this mask off…”
Puff. Puff. I passed the inhaler to my mom and replaced the helmet, wiggling until it aligned with my own eyes. Once my brothers were ready, we headed forth into the night.
Koo...pshrr, koo...pshrr. Even with medically relaxed lungs, I barely had to fake the anguished and sinister breathing effects. But it was Halloween. My favorite time of year, when I had an excuse to wear costumes and run around the neighborhood, when I was still fresh with birthday treasures, when a sackful of candy was allowed to remain in my room until it was gone. Generally sometime in December.
With the right amount of squint and smirk, the far-off thunder sounded like TIE fighter flybys, and my pillowcase could be mistaken for Princess Leia’s still-warm gown.
Koo...pshrr, koo...pshrr.
I brandished the glowing lightsaber and listened to its wwhan wwhan wwhan and clashed it against my brother’s legs until he whined and my mom scolded.
Koo...pshrr, koo...pshrr.
We knew all the best candy houses in the neighborhood: the ones with the king-size Butterfingers and Reese’s and Gushers. We hurried from one ding-dong-trick-or-treat-thank-you to another, eager to hit all the lit and decorated houses, and glowering at the ones left dark and unwelcoming.
Before it seemed possible, it was time to go home. The pillowcase was stuffed, slung over my shoulder like a drifter’s duffel. My cape was a bit bedraggled from dewey lawns, and I’d tricked David into carrying my lightsaber for me while my mom carried his bow and arrows. The albuterol had long-since worn off, but my pride fought tooth and nail to get home without another dose. I took off my helmet to enjoy the last few ragged spice-scented breaths of Halloween.
Koo...pshrr, koo...pshrr.
Until next year.


©2011