Halloween, sometime around 1989-ish. (I’m guessing.) It poured. Poured. My brothers and I got down the street, hit a few houses, and we were already completely drenched.
Didn’t stop us though.
We hit every house on one side of the road, ran through puddles, splashed through muddy front yards—happy, excited, exhilarated—and then turned for home. We dumped our candy in the living room (separate piles for easy sorting and trading later, of course) and my two brothers and I ran soaking wet to our attic, pawed through trunks of old clothing and ratty wigs, and threw together our second costumes of the night. My mom smeared some black soot on our faces, declared us hobos, and sent us back out into the night.
Autumn is my favorite season and I have a lifetime of wonderful memories on Halloween. But none quite so exciting as the night it poured buckets and required multiple costume changes. That Halloween wasn’t about the costumes, or even really the candy (which was mostly just as soaking wet as we were). That Halloween was about adventure, excitement, daring, and maybe that’s why this remained my favorite holiday?
Because on one Halloween I was splashing around, charging through yards, roaming freely, not caring in the slightest that I was drenched or that my carefully-thought-out costume had been ruined in minutes. One Halloween night I was a spirit in the world, howling madly through the storm.
So if it's raining where you are tonight, if the weather's not cooperating, if you're worried about costume changes and soggy candy--don't. Tonight the magic won't be in the store-bought costumes or carefully orchestrated trick-or-treating routes. Tonight the magic will be right where it's supposed to be, in the free, wild, glorious adventure of Halloween night.