On Halloween Night (a fun poem)

Twas Halloween night, when all across town,
the stores were picked clean, no candy to be found.

The pumpkins were lit up, on porches and stoops,
while children were gathered in pairs and in groups.

Some were dressed up as clowns, some were witches and cats,
there were fairies and ghosts, and even some bats.

They ran door to door, with sacks in their hands,
with pleas for more candy. Some polite, some demands.

"Trick or treat, smell my feet!" could be heard in the air,
along with laughter and squeals, from attempts at a scare.

There were parties and music, and bobbing for fruit,
while kids sat around, just swapping their loot.

The adults were there too, and just as well dressed,
having arguments over whose costume was best.

Then out in the street, we heard a loud screaming.
For a moment we thought we must have been dreaming.

Some ran to the windows, some ran to the door,
but we didn't know what we were looking out for.

Then the scream came again, but this time much louder.
Some were so frightened, they hid and they cowered.

Then out of nowhere, the lights just went out.
The darkness so deep, we just stumbled about.

We banged into tables, and into each other.
Children were shouting, and so were their mothers.

The screaming continued, out in the street,
like a bad scary movie just left on repeat.

Then we heard the door open with a loud creak.
We were so afraid, no one could speak.

Then footsteps they came, right into the room.
This must be the end, we were all doomed.

So we quivered and shivered, what more could we do?
When suddenly, someone shouted out "BOO!"

The lights came back on, and everyone stared.
It was just little Danny who'd had us all scared.

"I GOT YOU, I GOT YOU!" He giggled with joy.
We couldn't believe we'd been duped by this boy.

We couldn't stop laughing, it had all been such fun.
But now it was late, we all needed to run.

So we headed home, as the leaves they did fall...
Good night, sweet dreams, Happy Halloween to us all.

(A poem/story by Teena M. Hauxwell-Finn)

My Inner Child

I'm going to just go ahead and say what we all think. Growing up sucks. Yeah, there's a few perks, like being able to drink & have sex, but those things are fun. But jobs, bills, responsibilities, stress and life in general, has a way of sucking the joy out of things. As a child, life was filled with happiness. It was everywhere you looked. From an empty box that could be anything from a robot to a rocket ship, to your backyard, which at any moment could be transformed into a magical fairyland or deep dark woods filled with evil goblins. Life was what you made it. Anything your mind could conjure up became your reality. At least until Mom called you in for dinner. 

The same just isn't true as an adult. You can't turn your stuffy cubicle into a pirate ship and shoot rubber band cannons at your enemy. Well, you could, but I doubt it would go over so well. When your spouse or your kids are stressing you out, you can't go hide in your fort and escape into a book. They'll just follow you. So what do you do? How do you keep your sanity in a world that does its best to make you crazy? 

Well, some folks do drugs. Some drink. Some spend entirely too much time on internet porn. I'm not judging. To each their own, I say. But I have taken a different route. I've opted to stay in touch with my inner child. 

Do you ever notice how when playing with kids, it's so easy to get absorbed into their activities? How quick to laugh, and be silly we are when surrounded by the innocence and joy of children? It's because we are connecting with our inner child during that time. 

Personally, I have a great relationship with my inner child. I'm not afraid to bring her out from time to time and escape from the all too real realities that are my life. Some people see my gnome collection or the silly pics I take of them and think "She's so weird." Yup. I am. But you know what? It makes me laugh. And if it brings a smile, or a laugh to one other person, even better. I still play with Legos. I wear a tiara when I clean my house. I have stuffed animals as throw pillows on my sofa. And sometimes, when life gets a bit out of control, I build a fort, hide in it and color. Does this make me insane? Who knows. I like to think I'm relatively sane. But if I'm not, oh well. I suppose it could always be worse. 

As a child, I had an imaginary friend, and while some people think that is the sign of a creative mind, others think it is a sign that you  might need therapy. It could go either way. I like to think of myself as a creative individual, but I'm sure a therapist would have a field day with me, as well. I'm not perfect. (Big shock, right?) But I have no desire to be. Where's the fun in being perfect? What could be considered flaws to one person may be charming quirks to another. I am who I am, and I make no apologies. 

So is being in touch with your inner child such a crazy thing? Is it so mad to want to reconnect with a part of yourself that was innocent and carefree? A part that found happiness in the simple things. A part that dealt with the disappointments in life with a snack and a brightly colored Band-Aid. A part that started each day with a smile and enough energy to take on the world. A part that knew the only difference between the bathtub and Atlantis was a matter of perspective. Call me crazy, but I think life is hard enough without having to grow old and cynical too. So, I'm sticking with my inner child. She has a great sense of adventure, and throws a mean tea party, too.