He's AWOL, Horatio!

Alas, poor Yorick! I can't find my Halloween skull that is really a carved and painted coconut. I can't find my memory, either. This premenopausal grogginess is so weird. Scarier than preschoolers in blue Power Ranger and Belle costumes, that's for sure.

Halloween of '96 was the first major holiday after the divorce when my kids were with their father. In the original custody plan the boys would hang out with their dad every Halloween, and with me every Valentine's Day. I had high hopes of teaching them how to treat a lady on Febr. 14.

How strange now to think.... I remember getting off work at the library, and stopping at Target on the way home. Along with the necessities, I had purchased a string of green dancing skeleton lights, JUST BECAUSE I LOVED THEM. This was a break-through. I was in such a state of depression that I rarely knew what I liked or wanted. I am still discovering these preferences eight years later.

My old friend from Oklahoma met me at home and helped carry in groceries and hang the skeleton lights. I wasn't used to having anyone help me with anything. I wasn't used to having an actual discussion with an adult-type person. Especially, I wasn't used to a cherishing, supporting hug. I was confused about having a conversation that emphasized our intellect and intimacy, or enjoying a hug that was intended to convey fondness and respect instead of ownership. I wasn't used to choosing my own course of action, to making My Final Answer. I didn't have a clue how to be a middle-aged single woman.

That Halloween was a very scary time. The challenges ahead were terrifying. I was awakening from a long period of zombie dead emotions. I was entangled in the bandages of the Mummy. I needed lots of Halloween bite-size Milky Ways and Snickers, Hersheys Miniatures, and lucky Milk Duds. I want to thank the ghosts and ghouls, goofs and grocery checkout clerks who helped me through that time!