Image Credit: Unsplash- Natural Photos
October 31, 2012. I stepped onto my front step in an orange Jack-o-lantern shirt and my orange cat ears to go trick-or-treating with my friend. The fall leaves decorated the water-soaked concrete. The sky had been gray for a little over a week, but the winds finally died down. Yes, the winds ceased whistling their deadly, terrifying tune. A crisp after-rain scent clung to my nostrils.
My UGG-clad feet brought me to the rear door of my mother’s car. As we drove towards the neighboring town, I stared wistfully out the window at the snaking telephone wires coiled on the ground. The receding river that bore itself on the roads after three long days of wind and rain. It was eerie seeing so many shops closed down except the supermarket and a couple of restaurants. My mother didn’t say a word as some song came on the radio. We just lost Sirius XM at the beginning of the month because it was too expensive.
I thought back to my Halloween outfit. This wasn’t what I was supposed to wear, I knew. I was supposed to wear my poodle skirt because my friend and I wore matching outfits. Hah. That’s the last time that would ever happen, wouldn’t it? I hate group costumes. My outfit was significantly more comfortable. The shoes I had for my fifties costume were stiff. Pretty, sure. But very stiff.
Past the gas station that used to give me a lollipop after they filled up my mother’s tank. A line at least fifteen people long had already formed because people needed fuel for their generators. I think my father was scheduled to stand in that line that day? What does it really matter in the end, power returned to our house in a month after Sandy passed.
I said hello to my friend as we began trick-or-treating. The downed power lines resembled rubber snakes that I was very tempted to touch. A decent number of houses had candy that year despite very sparse decorations. I had fun, but my mood remained as gray as the sky above me.
My grandparents, originally from the harbor neighborhood, lived with my aunt in Farmingdale. Their street never lost power, and they had a small apartment in the basement of their house. It was a good thing, too. The day before, my father and I visited the devastated, waterlogged house that belonged to my grandparents. It reeked of seawater. Driftwood covered the backyard and littered the house. A girl in my school, a girl from a wealthy family, had her house destroyed and lived in a small apartment within the village. Another boy’s house was rebuilt and then raised above the ground. That is how the harbor folk spent their Halloween. Forced to live in small apartments within the basements of others’ houses.
But we found joy, somehow. One of the hardest Halloweens of my generation, especially those living on Long Island, managed to make it beautiful. It was messy. Lives were altered. But that Halloween, we found joy.
I found the meaning of a cozy autumn that many social media users romanticize now. Back then, that jack-o-lantern outfit was the most comfortable trick-or-treat costume I’ve worn in a long time. My friend and I made a game of getting as close to the power lines as we could before getting yelled at. The days off from school gave me more time with my family and playing in the autumn leaves as the Island recovered from the storm. I tried to get closer to the kids who lived in the Harbor neighborhood. They were still friendly with me, but boys and girls hate each other when they’re young.
When I remember Halloween 2012, I don’t just remember the destruction around me. I don’t just think about the way my family struggled to recover from the storm. I remember the growth we shared as a community. And I think that really helped me move on. The houses still stand on stilts, and my grandparents’ home was completely revamped since then. But the closeness and the happiness that came out of it is what matters for me.
And yes, I did share some of my Halloween candy with my grandparents when I saw them again.
This was written by our contributing writer, Lauren DeSantis.
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