The driveway was full of dressed up children, with faces white and bloodied. Some, barely old enough to walk, tottered around with their plastic pumpkins, reaching out to the shuddering skeletons in their cages and recoiling as soon as they got too close. Parents wandered around, holding up their iPhones, smiling and talking among themselves.
We stood by the open garage; there was a movement in the shadows inside and all of a sudden – first needing to duck down to fit past the roof – there was Groot, emerging to universal cooing of appreciation and wonder. He moved among the crowd with theatrical flair, slowly, deliberately, shaking the hands of the kids who had run up in excitement. Groot came to Keira and a girlfriend of hers who was trick or treating with us. He shook both their hands as well, and then held up a finger.
Wait, was the message.
Groot reached between the folds of his costume, where the pieces of bark met on his arm, and plucked out a daisy.
He presented it to Keira and went to find another for her friend. However his long fingers, hidden under the fabric and costuming, had lost next to all fine motor movement ability. After failing three times to pick out another daisy, he pointed to his arm where the little bunch rested, inviting Keira’s friend to take her own, which she did, tip-toed and delighted. His gift given, Groot waved and turned away.
Later, when we were home again, with treats galore, Keira took inventory, making little mounds of lollies, chocolates and lolliops. These then went back into her pumpkin, but the daisy, the precious daisy, was saved for the top: crowning, and a grateful reminder of, a lovely day.
Don’t lose it, I said. It’s better than the rest combined.
Sure, it is, she said, not believing me.
But one day she will.
This is why I like Halloween. Sure, you can get crazy and cynical and uptight about it. But I choose to look past it and to practise gratitude. Even if it’s over something small, like a flower. Especially because it is small.
