I’m not great with Halloween. If I could cut it out of the calendar I would. I do see how much my kids love it, how excited they get about costumes and candy. And that does help. It really does.

But still…I can’t get excited about Halloween. It haunts me even without the ghosts and witches that travel the streets hoping for more candy than they can digest. Halloween holds memories that make me tremble deep down. As soon as October comes, I feel those memories climb out of their internal prison cell and start to grip their hands around my neck. I watch the decorations come out – the pumpkins and ghosts and skeletons and corn stalks (what a strange collaboration of decorations!) – and I wish desperately for the end of the season. For November 1. For the approach of winter.

Last week our neighbours put orange lights in their tree and I thought to myself – I think maybe I’m starting to hate the colour orange. How sad to lose a colour.

And then this morning, up way too early thinking about work, I set out for a run along the lake. At the end I was greeted with this ribbon of colour that said,

“Dear broken hearted,

Don’t abandon me forever

– I’ve got such beauty to share with you.

Sincerely, Orange. “