It is Halloween, and our neighborhood usually goes all out for trick-or-treating. I am lucky enough to live in a relatively wealthy area, and all the houses are quite large, with impressive decoration budgets.
I work at the convenience store as a way to make money during my senior year of high school. (My parents might have money, but they make sure I know an honest day’s work.) There have been streams of kids coming through in their costumes, some more elaborate than others, with most well-behaved. We’ve got bowls of candy out for all of them, and it’s generally been an amazing night.
Later in the evening, I see a mother and her son come in. The boy looks no older than four or five, and he looks a bit familiar. Suddenly, I look at the mother and it hits me. She’s one of the Latin American cleaners from one of the bigger houses on the street. She often comes into the store, and while her English is simple, she’s always been polite and makes an effort to have pleasant conversations with me.
Her son is wearing what can best be described as a white trash bag with a head hole cut into it. It also looks like the mother has applied some of her lipstick to his face to make it seem like he’s bleeding from his mouth and eyes — scarily effective!
This is what it looks like when a mother has very little income but wants to make sure her little man has as good a night of trick-or-treating as any other kid on the block.
His huge yet little eyes look up at me, and he does a playful growl.
Me: “Oh! Wow! What a scary… uh… ghost?”
Boy: “I’m a bleeding ghost!”
Me: “Of course! I was just so scared I couldn’t say it!”
Boy: “Mama couldn’t finish work early, but I still got some candy! Look!”
Heart warming
From Not Always Right: All Treat, All Heart
It is Halloween, and our neighborhood usually goes all out for trick-or-treating. I am lucky enough to live in a relatively wealthy area, and all the houses are quite large, with impressive decoration budgets.
I work at the convenience store as a way to make money during my senior year of high school. (My parents might have money, but they make sure I know an honest day’s work.) There have been streams of kids coming through in their costumes, some more elaborate than others, with most well-behaved. We’ve got bowls of candy out for all of them, and it’s generally been an amazing night.
Later in the evening, I see a mother and her son come in. The boy looks no older than four or five, and he looks a bit familiar. Suddenly, I look at the mother and it hits me. She’s one of the Latin American cleaners from one of the bigger houses on the street. She often comes into the store, and while her English is simple, she’s always been polite and makes an effort to have pleasant conversations with me.
Her son is wearing what can best be described as a white trash bag with a head hole cut into it. It also looks like the mother has applied some of her lipstick to his face to make it seem like he’s bleeding from his mouth and eyes — scarily effective!
This is what it looks like when a mother has very little income but wants to make sure her little man has as good a night of trick-or-treating as any other kid on the block.
His huge yet little eyes look up at me, and he does a playful growl.
Me: “Oh! Wow! What a scary… uh… ghost?”
Boy: “I’m a bleeding ghost!”
Me: “Of course! I was just so scared I couldn’t say it!”
Boy: “Mama couldn’t finish work early, but I still got some candy! Look!”
((Contd))