Halloween has always been a time of magic. However, there is one Halloween that stands out above the rest, one I think of as the year of the Samhain Santa, as in, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus”. Though, of course, this story has nothing to do with him . . .

What happened was quite, quite unforgettable, especially since I was an adult when these events occurred and long past believing in witches with black peaked hats, vampires with long peaked teeth and Frankenstein’s Monsters with peaked metal stubs on their necks. As for the other reason . . it had nothing to do with what I thought but with what I knew: that this was the only year of my entire life when the full moon would fill the sky on Halloween night.

On a night like that, anything was possible.

My youngest was only seven weeks old at the time which made me 1. far younger than I am now (which has nothing to do with anything) and 2. suffering from severe sleep deprivation and lacking in energy for getting myself decked out in a costume. Though dressing up for Halloween was something I adored above all things in my youth, reveling in matching costumes with my boyfriend, fiancé or husband, whichever the case might have been at the time, it was a bit beyond me in my sleep deprived state. In spite of it, I did manage to get the Big Guy, the Middle Child and the Little Guy into acceptable outfits for trick-or-treat.

We headed out into the full-mooned night with great anticipation. That great, big, round piece of cheese took up an enormous section of sky and hovered over us wherever we went. We walked amongst the darkened streets of our neighborhood filled with rambling ranch-style homes with a forest of towering trees in each yard. It seemed a mile from one front door to the next. There were trick-or-treaters about, adding that unique flavor to the air, but then we suddenly came around the corner of a street a bit darker and much quieter than the others. It was a street we didn’t know well, we didn’t know anyone who lived there and so didn’t know to expect what happened next.

Shivering a bit with apprehension, we stealthily approached a house aglow with the flames of an iron cauldron in the driveway being stirred by a wondrous witch. Next to her, a dark fir framing each side of him in the nearly black sky and the ripe, heavy and impossibly round moon just above his head, was the inky silhouette of the perfect Frankenstein’s Monster.

The top of his head was appropriately squared, the ears sticking out amongst a thatch of brindled hair. His shoulders were as boxy as his noggin and his coat sleeves were more than a bit too short, just as one would expect. His pants were, as well, and his shoes looked as wrong-sized as one could tell in the black night.

For a full glorious moon-filled moment, we stared at him and he (we assume as we couldn’t see his expression in the night), stared back at us.

It was the best Halloween moment of my life.

(P.S. Happy Halloween! You all know what I do when life gets beyond my means to control it: I decorate. Click HERE to see this year’s Halloween décor. I mixed it up a bit from the previous years in this house and I must say, I like it quite a bit. It’s a wonder I got anything up at all this year, what with a dangerously slowed down thyroid gland—AGAIN! Increased meds are starting to help a teesny weensy bit. At this rate, I might even be feeling up to taking the Halloween stuff down in time for Christmas! What I hope more than that is to get back to reading your blogs AND writing Miss D Three. Yep, I said it: Miss D Three. I’m committed now, aren’t I?)