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Fall was my favorite time of the year.
Not only was the weather the perfect blend of not too cold or warm; the beautiful colorful panorama of reds, greens, yellows and oranges foliage on the trees, but also because of Halloween.
The only occasion where we freely asked for and got sweets to our hearts’ content.
According to my dentist, no one had such a bad case of sweet tooth like mine, but Ellie would make me feel better by saying that it was because I was naturally ‘sugar sweet’.
By the time we turned thirteen, Ellie wanted to retire from our annual tradition of trick-or-treating.
Every year, as long as I had known Ellie, we went together gathering candies in our co-ordinated Halloween costumes. My parents told me that before meeting Ellie, I had been too shy to do it alone, or even to do it with them, by my side.
“What should we dress as this year”
“Should we be mermaids? We can do sparkly makeup, with glitters, and everything, and put seashells on our hair,” Ellie suggested.
“Hmmm... glitter might be messy, and we will have trouble walking with our tails. If we slow down walking, we won’t get to the houses fast enough, and they will run out of the best candies!”
“You have a point... and we already went as Disney princesses last year, remember? You wanted to be Belle, and I went as Aurora. We should do something completely different for our last year trick-or-treating.”
“Why aren't we doing it next year?” I asked sadly, thinking about not getting any candies next year.
“Because we are thirteen. 13... we should stop in the Halloween spirit, and the lucky number! Besides, too many people ask us about our age, and we don’t look as cute as the little kids. We should leave the tradition to them and move on to more grown-up things.”
“Remember when people thought we were so adorable, dressed up in our fruits costumes? We had the biggest stash that year! It took weeks to finish all the candies!” I reminisced fondly.
“Yeah... I don’t how we thought of dressing as our favorites fruits. You as a prickly pineapple, and me as a plump strawberry, and it felt a little silly wearing those huge costumes, but everyone loved it.”
“What should we do this year? I can’t think of anything...”
“I got it! We should dress as something we want to be when we grow up... I can dress up like a movie star!”
“But Ellie... I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. What will I do?”
“We can pick a career from a hat? I can put random ones into a hat, and you can pick one up and dress up as that?”
“Sounds good, I can’t think of anything else, so let’s do it!”
Ellie wrote a bunch of random careers on little pieces of paper and then placed it in a bag for me to choose from. I picked one piece of paper to read what my costume would be, and it said “Movie writer” in Ellie’s handwriting.
I had to get creative with my tricky costume, and I dressed as what I thought a writer would look like.
Dressed in all black, with a French beret, black sunglasses, and mock turtleneck sweater, carrying a long paper scroll with an enormous feather pen in hand, waiting to write furiously when inspiration struck... even in the middle of conversations. I should have added a cup of coffee for effect, even if I hadn’t started drinking coffee yet.
That year, for our last Halloween as kids, we would end our much beloved annual tradition of trick-or-treating, dressed up like our dream future grown-up versions. Or at least, Ellie would. Ellie was the movie star, and I was a movie writer.
—-
This year, my favourite season fall, once again turned out memorable in another way. I was delighted when I found out that John shared my love for the season, too.
He thought fall was the best season for playing outdoors, and said that he liked piling on the leaves, and jumping into them as a kid.
Now, during fall, he enjoyed walking and hiking, especially with the picturesque backdrop of our small town.
This year, the town looked, and felt even more beautiful than it ever did before. Maybe because this time, I had John with me. We had already been on a few dates by now, and he and I soon shared our first kiss.
My first, at age sixteen and a half.
We were walking towards the park, after we had bought some ice cream. He was quieter than usual. Usually, he would fill in my shy silences with pleasant conversation.
We reached a small bridge in the park, but he stopped walking. I looked up at him to see why, and I saw him deep in thought.
His eyes lingered on mine, brown eyes shining like amber. I must have blushed, for he gently reached out for my hand. My small olive hands contrasted against his pale, long fingers. He often compared our fingers to each other, put our palms together, and remarked at how small my fingers were to his.
I felt the warmth of his hands and blushed again. He held my hand, and lifted it to his lips and gave the gentlest of kiss, as if he was afraid any sudden movement might startle me. He then looked at me and slowly reached down to kiss. I closed my eyes and felt his lips close over mine.
He tasted sweet, like the chocolate ice cream he had. I wondered if I tasted sweet to him?
When I opened my eyes, I saw him looking slightly dazed. I had an urge to giggle, but I didn’t. I felt oddly emboldened by his awestruck expression, and I reached out my hand to trace the scar on his face with my fingertips. The same one that I knew he felt self-conscious about, and the one I had wanted to touch for the longest time. I saw him blush slightly more, and I was completely smitten by him.
We walked to our homes, hand in hand, after our sweet exchange.
Ellie was over the moon when I told her... and was also slightly jealous. Her revelation amused me.
She was jealous of my first kiss.
She reminded me shortly, that hers was with a “icky nine-year-old neighbour at a cousin’s birthday party, during a game of truth or dare, when she was eight.” She said that I was so lucky that I got to share my first kiss with someone that I wanted.
I suppose it is lucky to share the first kiss with someone you really like, no matter at what age you do.