Spooky Spaces: Halloween Decoration Guide

Guys. I love, love Halloween. Really, I love all of the holidays between October and December to an unhealthy degree and Halloween is the first chance I really have to go all out! Because J and I are in different cities this year, we've gotten to pick two different themes to run with. He is clearly into the Zombie/Scary theme...

J's door for reference. Courtesy of Target Dollar Spot! 

And I'm more into the Spooky/Witches/Black cat scene. (Alternative themes include: Day of the Dead and Slasher Chic of course).

So for the Spooky/Witches/Black cat theme, I'm thinking glittery black candles, gold accents, and some aged-looking wood to give it a Knockturn Alley-type feel.

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When J and I first started decorating for Halloween, I remember a bunch of the stuff available being super cheesy (all orange, black, and pumpkin) so it's been nice to see some variety pop up! I also love the fact that a ton of stuff (the tea light candle holder, the black glitter candle, and even the flask) can be used for other things since they aren't so overtly Halloween-y.

Best of all, this lets me combine my love for Harry Potter and Halloween into one fun theme! I think this'll make the perfect place to post up drinking warm cider and watching Nightmare Before Christmas (Is this a Halloween movie or a Christmas movie? I'm not sure we'll ever know).

Measuring Autumns

I measure my life in autumns. There's something about the first crisp breeze that brings nostalgia with it, pulling out the memories from the year before and dusting them off. Maybe it's because fall is reliably the same every year. It knocks down the leaves. It signals the start of football, of cooler days, and of sweeter drinks. It's the sameness of the season that allows me to measure the differences in everything else.

It was my senior year of high school when I realized that the first hint of autumn reminded me of something, or more specifically, of all of the autumns before it. Day by day, changes are hard to notice, but autumn by autumn, they become more clear. I could remember the person I was four seasons ago, and I knew that, one year from that moment, I would remember the person I was then. So I memorized the moment and it has stayed with me.

The cool air. Just the tiniest oasis in thick, muggy air. The promise of a new school year and all the adventures it could bring paired with an acute feeling of loss for the year that had passed. I was standing in a parking lot lit by stadium lights. I was gross. Sweaty. Holding a flute and a water jug and realizing that I could not picture my life 365 days from that moment. Day by day, I knew what my future held but viewed in giant leaps, my lack of permanency because acutely noticeable.

365 days from that moment, I would be at some unknown college with unknown friends. I would be taking unknown classes, filling my time with unknown hobbies. The only thing that was certain was that I wouldn't be there. I would never be there again.

That was the first autumn I measured.

Each autumn since has been the same crossroads of what's past and what's to come. Each fall is bittersweet and promising and comfortingly, the same. Now, like back then, I cannot imagine what my life will be like 365 days from this moment. I will be working some unknown job. I will have unknown friends. I will be helping unknown clients, living in an unknown place. The only thing that is certain is that I won't be here. I will never be here again.

Maybe that (along with a healthy dose of pumpkin spice) is what makes the moment so sweet.