A Halloween Pumpkin childhhod reflection by Litchatte writer, Paul Ho
A few days before Halloween, my parents bought me a large well-formed pumpkin. I spent almost an hour drawing a nice smile and some eyes on it. Then my father helped me carve into it with a kitchen knife and we put it in our living room window with a candle inside for all the world to see.
I got a lot of compliments from the neighbors and we left it on the window for more than two weeks. One day, I noticed the pumpkin was starting to look a little sick. The face was caving in on itself and some white mold had begun to appear on the edges of the circle we had cut on top of his head to put the candle inside.
My mother told me it was time to throw it away, but I refused. I was revolted by such an insensitive thought. To me, it was like putting a loyal pet to sleep or abandoning a sick child. I had become very attached to the pumpkin. More importantly, it was my own Pygmalion, my first artistic creation, a manifestation of my creative juices and I couldn’t bear to part with it.
As I approached the house after school the next day, I looked up at the window and saw that the pumpkin was missing. After I came in and hung up my jacket, I demanded to know what she did with it. My mother told me it was gone and that it was about time to forget about it. With my hands on my hips, I asked her what she did with it and she impatiently told me she had thrown it away because it was starting to smell. Distraught, I looked in the garbage can to see if I could find it, but it wasn’t there. I kept asking her, but she wouldn’t tell me where it was. She always did stuff like that. She threw away my favorite old jeans too just because they had a few holes in the groin area. I won’t even talk about the turtle that escaped from his bowl and fell into my sock drawer.
I was very unhappy. The pumpkin had been a good friend. It was my first love in a way, except for the dead turtle. For weeks, I was devastated. I knew that my parents had my best interests in mind, but I never got over their cruelty.
To this day, each Halloween, I close my eyes for a few minutes at sunset, paying respect to my beloved pumpkin. I remember all the good times we had together and the mutual affection we shared. Even now as an older man, I can’t help but wonder what life would have been like if we two had been allowed to share our lives together for a while longer.
Happy Halloween!
by 
