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| HALLOWEEN |
Halloween in the ghetto was wonderful. It was the only good day in the ghetto. Kids had home made costumes- if they bothered to dress up at all. Several of them looked like they just rolled around on the ground in their school clothes before going out. The ghetto children rarely said “trick or treat”. They just walked up to you and held open their bag. They did however, for the most part, always say thank you. They never complained about what you gave them. They didn’t watch to see if you gave everyone the same amount. They thanked you then walked off. They were happy and joyous. I would have between 80 and 100 kids.
I moved to the grand neighborhood in the trees this past January. This was my first Halloween in this place. I had about 28 kids. The fancy neighborhood kids were very different from the ghetto children. They were dressed from head to toe in very elaborate costumes. They rang the door bell then immediately started beating on the door until you got there. They all said “trick or treat”. I think 5 of them may have said thank you. Apparently, in this neighborhood it was less of a gift- and more of a tax. Something that is owed to the fancy neighborhood children.
Don’t get me wrong- this neighborhood is far preferable to the ghetto. In the ghetto I used to worry that someone would break in on me. I don’t think of that here. But these people are a little snoody.
R called me a couple of times tonight. He to M and her friend Ann trick or treating. It was good to talk to him. He seemed to be in a much better mood.
He had been in a mood for most of the day. He did have a rough one. His mother is on one of her depression spells again. Convinced she is going to die before next year. A giant wet blanket. I can always tell the split second he calls me if she has been in one of her moods- and he has spent time with her. +
She expects him to visit her every single day. Which flat out isn’t possible. I drove back into town to meet him for lunch. I entertained him with stories of my Halloween decorations that blew out of place into my driveway- and I promptly ran them over. When our lunch was over he held my hand and told me that he really appreciated me in his life. He told me that he didn’t know what he would do without me. He was so grateful for me- because I always cheered him up.
It is nice to be appreciated. Weird. But nice.
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Posted by SimpleSugar on 2009-10-31 19:56:33 | Rating: | Views: 11
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