“Night and day. Summer and winter, boys. Seedtime and harvest. Life and death. That's what Halloween is, all rolled up in one.”

It’s 10:30 p.m., and another Halloween night is almost over. 
For at least five years now, the evenings have just been quiet with nobody out at all. 
We’re rural and a bit off the beaten path, but we used to get one or two trick‑or‑treaters. 
Even when they skipped our street, you could hear them near the school. 
Now it’s just silent.

Nostalgia sneaks up on me. 
I didn’t realize how much I’d miss those nights until the boys got older. 
After they aged out of Halloween, I got to do it all again with Badger. 
Even now, I catch myself wishing we could go back to those moments.

When my mom was alive, we'd load my kids up and drive to my hometown. 
We'd go trick‑or‑treating on the same streets I walked as a child. 
We'd stop at the same houses where I used to knock. 
The faces at the door were familiar, just older. 
Growing up and living in town on Halloween was magical, and for one night we gave my own kids a little of that same small‑town Halloween magic too.

You can't go back, though, can you?
Life doesn't work that way.
All the wishing in the world won't make time turn backward.

For one more year, Badger kept our little tradition going. 
Pizza in front of the TV and the same movies we've   watched since she was a kid.
 “Halloween Town,” “Nightmare Before Christmas,” and my all-time favorite, “The Halloween Tree.”

I think we’ve hit the end of our movie night.
 Badger is about to fall asleep on the couch, so I’ll wake her up and get myself to bed.

Before I wrap up this nostalgic post, I got my own trick instead of a treat. 
I still don’t have a washing machine. 
Around 6 p.m., the delivery driver called to say they couldn’t get through the little stone bridge. 
It took a few minutes for it to sink in that they meant the underpass. 
The driver’s English was limited, and I tried everything to make it clear that big trucks can’t fit through there. 
I told him to re-route and use GPS, but he didn’t have it, wasn’t from the area, and couldn’t follow my directions. 
He said, “Bring a truck and pick it up.” 
I explained that I don’t have a driver’s license or a truck. 
Cowboy’s truck is broken, which is why we scheduled delivery. 
So I told him I’d walk down and show him the road to take just wait. 
Badger and I walked down. 
No truck. 
I called the number on my phone and got a representative. 
They said the driver claimed the truck wouldn’t fit and his manager told him to leave. 
I told them that was a bunch of bull hockey. 
I’d told him to wait, that I was coming to show him the road myself. 
Maybe calling him as full of it as a Christmas turkey wasn’t polite, but I’d walked down there in the cold and near dark, and he was nowhere.
 “Do you want to reschedule?” they asked. 
Well, yeah. I just paid for a washer. I’m not letting you keep it. 
They say they’ll call within 24 hours. 
Next time, I’m going to Home Depot.