I suggest to my spouse, Let’s walk the neighborhood
with our grandkids (they are nine and five years old).

He says, Sure.
Of course, no skin off.

So we call to see if we could join in
(it’s already dark here in Pennsylvania)

Our son says, Sure.
Of course, it’s still light out here.

So my honey crowds with me into the wide chair
and our son turns his video phone around

And there before us, trots a pop-eyed Bart Simpson
and a green-faced, gown-laced Princess Witch

catching up to fiends and friends, but pausing
long enough to say hello to us grands before we all

head in the direction of a 3rd-grade teacher’s house.
How excited she and this small group of students are

invited in, pictures taken, candy and gratitude given
masks lifted, faces revealed, Good-bye Mrs. … and

off we all go, chatting away, looking at loot-bags
chasing after more ghouls, ghosts, goodies before we

sign off. … In the quiet of our empty nest, we marvel -
like howdy, we went Trick or Treating with our grandkids

in Texas!... you and I from the 1950s - costumed (or not)
like Retired-Barbie-&-Ken-At-Home dolls

but truly, feeling more like characters
from a George Orwell novel.
Tracey Gass Ranze ©2023