sketchbook stories: witchy women
she's got the moon in her eye
Dusk. The thick scent of burning leaves, their flames and doorstep jack-o-lanterns the last sparks of color left. A sliver of moon through the windowpane.
At the Town Hall, my grade school Halloween party and I’m a fortune teller for a night, in the costume my mother sewed on her beige Singer. Her clog ferociously working the foot petal, like the organ she played at church.
Bobbing for apples. My teeth chatter in the bucket of cold water. A cake walk around the stage. My clip-on earrings jingle. My mother in a purple witch hat. Another snapshot in the memory scrapbook.
This is the first year none of my children will go trick or treating. It makes me both a tiny bit giddy and a lot wistful. Your beautiful word snapshot warms my heart and makes me grateful they will always have their Halloween memories.
What a gorgeous little snippet of memory, Amie!