Each year Halloween arrives in the nick of my personal time.   As the leaves fall from the trees and morning frosts begin to appear, a chill sets in, in me, that  takes more than layering with clothes to combat.  For years now, I’ve relied on the caloric intake of Halloween candy to give me that little extra layer of personal self to keep the winter chill out of my bones.

Every year I purchased my first supply of Halloween treats around the 20th of October.  I give no thought to what the taste buds of the cute trick-or-treaters might prefer.  No, I buy what I like.  Snickers bars and Reeses Cups.  The candy might sit for several days in their sealed pouches.  I know myself - once a bag is opened, it will take me less than a week to finish it off.  Some excuse, such as a friend stopping by, will be the catalyst for breaking the seal on the bag of mini-sized sugar and saturated fat bars, and I’m off, reveling in the flavors and textures that do not entice me at any other time of year. 

Always, ’round about the 28th, I realize I have to replenish the supply.  So back to the store I go, for more Snickers bars and Reeses Cups.  This time I estimate actual need. But, my decision making is fogged by my state of being.  I’m loaded with the stuff, and I want more.  And, now that my own little trick-or-treaters are grown, I have to remember the mother-load is no longer arriving the evening of the 31st.   So, as I stand before the candy racks, I calculate:  two for me, one for the ghosts and goblins.  Home I come, like a squirrel with a cheek full of nuts, please with my survival skills and looking forward to cracking open the first shell, I mean, wrapper.

As the Hallowed Eve passes, I am quite generous with my winter cache.  It’s as if the need has crested, and I know I’m going to be ok for the winter.  Maybe it’s looking into the multiple pound bags of over-indulgence that the fiends open before me - a gaping hole of ‘give me more’ - that finally makes me feel satiated.  

Before the night is over, and to offset the supply that no longer kicks around the house for weeks after a successful canvassing of the neighborhood, I’ve set aside a reasonable five or so mini bars, used to ease me out of my addiction over the next few days. The rest is thrown with abandon into the bags of the deserving, the scary little costumed ones.

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