September in LA is practically still summer. But there’s something divisive about October.
The PSL is out. Pumpkins are eVERrYWhERe. These demand opinions. Halloween is not a lukewarm activity, but I’ve always had a modest gusto for it. Then again, you’re either in a costume or you’re not.
It’s the compulsion to accept the change of seasons that has always made me cringe. Like there’s a spiderweb in the corner that needs to be swept. It’s that one, the one in the hallway we keep passing and not sweeping because we’re used to it and can walk faster. Take that, spider!
This would be kind of like how an oyster treats a grain of sand, numbing the irritation with layer after layer of nacre… But less pretty and yielding nothing precious — haha it’s just our ever-mutual friend, Denial.
October tells me to drop the act. It tells me to stop dressing up for protection and start dressing up for fun.
It’s time for a new season.
October has told me to enter new homes and allow new friends to really take a seat in my heart. Because the reality is that that takes a good long while, and requires letting people in the door again, and again, and again.
Summer lets me skip town. Summer is flights and heat burning off and water wrung from beach towels slung into the car. Summer lets us do whatever we want. Stack the spontaneity.
Fall tells us there’s somewhere we’re supposed to be. Halloween starts off the nudge, saying, “What? Where’s your costume??”
October is a line in the sand for fall. Meals aren’t just packed, tables are set. And don’t we all kind of want that nudge?
Come to the table. Belong here. And hey, where’s your costume?