Listen. I don’t know if this night, or this day, really meant something to my ancestors. They didn’t leave us a whole lot to go on. And that’s the thing about traditions—we don’t always form them based on what was but on what we believe to have been.
I was privileged to grow up in a place and time where there were indeed four seasons, and in a way of life that followed those seasons. I believe this time of year is a threshold. It’s midway between the solstices, it’s the time when the harvest is ending and the winter is coming on. It’s a doorway, something that closes and opens again, that flows in both directions.
Are the spirits any closer to us now than they were yesterday? Does the light in the open door really draw them near? I don’t know. Let me light a candle, and I’ll tell you more tomorrow.