We’re on a three-lane highway—Dave driving, Evelyn racing cars on her tablet, and me in the passenger seat. An army-green Corvette, followed by a dark gray Dodge truck, swept by in the left-hand lane. We’re in the right, slower, but switch lanes when a large box truck merges ahead. We move back to the right and hold steady at seventy, exactly the limit.
I’m grateful for this trip—and for the precious cargo we’re picking up at the Atlanta airport: Evelyn’s grandparents, my parents. It’s October 12th, and our Christmas tree is already up, decked out with all our keepsakes from over the years. Also: Halloween décor. You may think we’re crazy—I think we are—but when inspiration hits, why the heck not?
With a trip to Seattle planned for the last half of December, our time with our festive things will be short. So, whoever brought up the idea of decorating early, I was all for it. Even though it’s Halloween season, our spooky decorations are as sparse as the hair on a newborn baby’s head.
Above the three stockings hang light-up candy corn necklaces. Sitting in front of Frosty is a mini plastic witch’s cauldron. On the front porch, there’s a Halloween doormat I made on a girls’ night out that reads, “Our last ingredient is here,” with a witch flying on her broom. And on the kitchen counter? A Christmas tree Lego.
With the door to the back porch open, Bunny bounds here and there. He’s intrigued by the fake tree—sniffing, standing tall on his back haunches. If that little mouth opened even one centimeter, I’d be rushing over—or hurling a pillow—to stop his slicing teeth from sending sparks flying. He’s been semi-decent about not chewing cords, only is one wrapped with electrical tape. What he’s very poor at, though, is leaving Archie in peace. That poor dog. But also, that poor bunny. All he wants is to be friends. His daily nose boops at Archie’s back paw are never met with warmth—just a growl and sharp bark. Never a bite, though. If Archie had even one ounce of mean in him, Bunny’s ears would be long gone.
We have company. Besides my parents seated on the couch with me, Dave’s brother—beer in hand—just walked in the front door. I love living next to family. Last night we golf-carted over to his house and taste-tested apple pizza and barbecue pizza made by their kids, both of whom are competing in the 4-H cooking contest at the Georgia State Fair. It’s been a great week—good food, full bellies, and laughter floating between houses.
And then, my Seattle Mariners. They’re as close as they’ve ever been to the World Series. I’m in shock. In bliss. After that fifteen-inning game two nights ago—the one I stayed up for until 1 a.m.—when we won, I ran four laps around the couch, jumping like a Mexican jumping bean. I’m in a dream, a beautiful dream, not sure what to do other than sit in awe, like a kid on It’s a Small World at Disney, and enjoy the ride.
I hope you’re enjoying the ride too. Love always, Jaclynn
Going On 40 