Welcome back to Good Life, a newsletter about navigating our modern culture and staying sane in the process. This weekend, we get into the spooky feeling!
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I’ve never really cared too much about Halloween. It’s always been a take-it-or-leave-it kind of holiday for me. After we had the girls, I put a lot more effort into making it fun because I liked seeing them get excited. The house is always decorated; we plan fun menus and costumes, and of course, there is the obligatory trick-or-treating.
Over the years, I found myself getting more and more excited about October because I knew Halloween was right around the corner. This feeling has only grown since I moved back to Texas because Halloween at our house became a family tradition. I look forward to the moment my nieces and nephews come to the door in their costumes and big, bright smiles, eager to see the decorations we put up around the house.
This year will be no different. My parents, sisters, brothers-in-law, and all of the little cousins are coming over. In fact, as you are reading this, my husband is putting the final touches on his famous chili, which he lovingly (read: annoyingly) calls meat soup. I’m not even sure how his chili became such an integral part of our Halloween celebration, but now it just doesn’t feel like spooky season without it. Just to drive that point home. We follow the traditional Catholic schedule of no meat on Fridays year-round, not just during Lent. So when Halloween fell on Friday last year, we all felt down about not having it.
It’s funny to me that my sister says my England-born-and-raised husband makes the best Texas chili she’s ever had.
I was thinking the other day about how drastically my feelings toward Halloween have changed over the years. I was trying to make sense of it all when I realized the holiday itself isn’t what gets me so excited. It’s that it marks the start of the season when, no matter what else is going on in our lives, I know I will be spending time with my family. We see each other all the time, but the memories we make between October and January every year are some of the most precious moments living in my heart. It’s like the troubles of the world fade away and are replaced by laughter in an intensity that just isn’t there the rest of the year.
Maybe I’m getting more sentimental as the girls get older, and it becomes increasingly apparent that they will not be little forever. But really, I think the more the world feels like it’s spinning out of control, the more I focus inward on what really matters. There’s a lost art in taking the extra effort to create memories. Everything is always so rushed, and corners are cut.