Anyway, I never really wanted to go trick-or-treating, but after one particularly violent year when a child was beaten and his candy stolen, I was all for my mom's plan of vacating the neighborhood until the storm of vampires, witches, and teenagers with pillow cases passed us by. Off we would go, every year, to my great aunts' house in a very remote country town where we would eat polenta, buttered noodles, and donuts. I am not sure why that was the menu, but it was. All my cousins would come. We wore costumes. We did not trick-or-treat. We would drive home after it became clear that everyone would have migrated back to there own corners of the neighborhood.
It's funny that I'm not sure why we started going to my great aunts' house. I don't know if it was because my mom thought the neighborhood wasn't safe, but I've always remembered it that way. Perhaps it was I who thought the neighborhood was unsafe because I thought that it was highly likely that princesses and teddy bears could wreck all sorts of irreparable harm on just about anyone.
Halloween for me has always been a night of demons and terrors. Mine just happened to look like Belle from Beauty and the Beast.
When people ask me if I'm dressing up this year, I always chuckle. Not a chance.