Halloween

The house smells like oil and fried scones. Honestly, it's probably not the best smell--but the scent is a prelude to the greasy homemade donuts that my mom would be making--from a family recipe three-generations old, so our mouths begin to water anyways. Jake and I wait impatiently, and begin rapping our fingers on the orange, plastic tablecloth. That's about as Halloween-ish our house gets. Mom indulges us kids by covering our porch with jack-o-lantern and autumn leaves, but the house is her domain, and she won't stand for it turning into a tacky all-a-dollar showcase. "Don't get any grease on your costumes!" Mom cautions as she hands us the homemade, glazed donuts. Jake and I each take a large bite, as the warm melting glaze oozes down our faces and to our neck, making them sticky. Pieces of yarn from my costume stick to the gooey mess and Jake and begin to laugh. Mom rushes over with a wet dishrag and begins to violently rub my messy face, resulting in raw patches of skin, and Jake giggles even harder.