The wind picks up and you hear the rustle of the leaves scurry across the pavement of the sidewalk and whip up into a twister of leaves at the end of the street. The sky is overcast and it's about to drizzle. Children all made up, draped in tiny witches, ghosts, Princesses and clowns go prancing down the street. The sound of their tiny plastic pumpkins squeaking on that rusted screw holding the bucket together. The kids faces grinning ear to ear awaiting the next big handful of candy that awaits with every passing doorstep.

That was me 25 years ago. My mother would carefully paint my face and smooth my hair to pin it just right. My costumes were off the wall, most of them home made because I didn't know back them my mom was a little touch of crazy and a whole lot of broke. So she'd use any old Mary Kay makeup laying around the house and make me up like some tiny prom queen, then she'd dress me up in old clothes so that most Halloweens I'd look like some hobo from era's past. My favorite was when she'd dig out grandma's old clothes that still smelled like her perfume.

I remember going door to door to all the decorated houses. Me and my friends would see who can get the most candy from one stop alone. And just like clockwork, there was always those few houses every year that you wondered if you should egg. They'd turn off all their lights and sit in there with the TV on, oblivious to the trick or treaters at the door. We'd pound on the door, ring the bell, we'd see them sitting there in the living room to no avail. We'd march off the doorstep uttering what would become the first of many profanities we'll mumble throughout the rest of our lives. Here's the age when disappointment took on a whole new meaning.

Then I wonder what's worse, getting all dressed up and no candy at all, or getting some old Christmas or easter candy, a handful of pennies, or my personal least favorite, those peanut butter kisses wrapped in orange and black wax paper. One time I bit into one of those nasty things and found a twig inside. Yes. A twig. Apparently that nasty little candy is made in the forest by elves. It ruined me for many Halloweens to come.

There's the big house, I'm about to hit the jackpot. There may be no decorations, but I just saw the curtains move and someone inside is scrambling to get that bowl of candy for sure. Marching up to the door with my best smile I ring and shout "trick or treat" only to be greeted by that familiar chill

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