Expressway: Jack the Giant returns

I admit it. I love Halloween. Even as an adult, this playful holiday with slightly sinister undertones brings out the kid in me.

Though my children are grown, every year I still decorate from rafter to foundation. My husband, Ben, who has long suspected I become a bit deranged as All Hallows Eve approaches, becomes convinced of it as he good-naturedly helps me place Dracula here, motion-sensitive bats there, and witches and goblins everywhere.

Last year, he asked, "Are you sure you want to go to the trouble of decorating? The kids are gone."

Despite my love of ghosts, goblins and things that go bump in the night, I admit his words gave me pause. Truth be told, it's not as much fun now that our three kids are grown. How we loved opening boxes in the dusty attic, rediscovering what was lurking in each one and freeing each from its newspaper-wrapped confines.

We'd unearth an aging but beloved Ghostbusters mask, a slightly dented black cat with blue marble eyes, a nearly full-sized skeleton that danced disjointedly. Decorating was the perfect convergence of ritual and happy memory. So at his words, I wondered, Will anyone care if I do this? Who's going to notice, anyway?

Some karmic force in the universe must have heard my musings and decided a swift and definitive response was in order. The next day when I got home from work, my husband greeted me with, "You won't believe what happened."

Turns out someone did notice. Two little someones, to be exact. You see, every year my Halloween pièce de résistance -- my crown jewel -- is a 2-foot-high oval jack-o'-lantern that occupies a place of honor on the ledge of the second-story picture window in the front of our home. During the day, it is the quintessential Halloween sentinel, keeping vigilant watch over home and hearth. At night, when lit, it gives off a deliciously ghostly orange glow that can be seen far into the distance.

"This afternoon, a woman in a blue minivan pulled into our driveway," my husband said. "She had two small children with her. She apologized for the intrusion, but said they pass our house almost every day and for the last few weeks, her kids have been asking her why we haven't put up our jack-o'-lantern yet -- you know, the big one we put in the front window. Apparently, her kids wait for it every year. She said she knew it sounded silly, but they were upset that Halloween might pass without seeing the jack-o'-lantern. Said they've even named it: Jack the Giant Window Pumpkin."

My husband went on, "I told them not to worry, that Jack would be back this year. Was I right?"

For a moment, I was astonished and could not speak. Two little children we did not know -- and would probably never know -- had indeed noticed our decorations and were actually waiting to see our goofy-faced jack-o'-lantern.

When I finally found my voice I said, "Do you think it's too late to put Jack up tonight?"

Reader Barbara Cerrone lives in Dix Hills.