i'm obsessed with a skeleton balloon from the grocery store

a love letter to october

Every time I go into the grocery store, I notice a balloon shaped like a skeleton. It popped up a few weeks ago in the middle of the card aisle, lying on the ground and looking up at me, and I immediately formed an emotional connection to it. I think this balloon is haunting me, it always feels like it’s watching me when I run into the grocery store to grab oat milk or lemons or that one hyper-specific item I can’t get from Trader Joe’s. I’ve contemplated buying this balloon a million times since our first encounter. Its little eyes follow me when I walk out of the store, seemingly telling me that it’ll see me the next day when I inevitably return for a kombucha, and I know we’ll continue this cycle on and on until it disappears.

I don’t need a skeleton balloon, I don’t even know if I want a skeleton balloon, but I love autumn and Halloween so much. There’s something in the little skeleton that makes me so happy. This balloon embodies the essence of the season. It makes me feel the same as when I’m walking in my neighborhood and leaves crunch under my feet, the faint smell of woodsmoke in the air, or when I sit down to watch Over the Garden Wall with a cup of apple cider or cocoa.

the balloon’s first appearance

I’ve already written about my tendencies to romanticize autumn, but it’s like something comes over me, the crispness in the air, pumpkins on my neighbors’ front porches, the skeleton balloon in the grocery store, I feel autumn in my bones and I want it to last forever. I think a lot about that quote from Anne with an E/Anne of Green Gables (one of my favorite shows):

I’m so glad I get to live in a world where there are Octobers, aren’t you?

There really is something about October that feels special. My heart gets so warm when I walk down the fall decoration aisle in Target, the weird little stuffed birds wearing their ghost costumes, or I overhear a group of teenage girls discussing what their friend group will dress as for Halloween. There’s such a specific tone associated with October, it’s spooky, warm-toned (but sometimes cooler toned if the vibe is eerier) and nostalgic.

I can smell the candles my mom would light in the fall, the smokey pumpkin smell filling my house when I would come in after soccer practice. Chicken roasting in the oven, my mouth watering while I read my books or wrote essays for school, I have such visceral memories, certain smells or colors or symbols that worm their way into my brain and let me remember the Octobers of my youth.

As the seasons change, I feel myself change with them. I saw Megalopolis the other day with my friend,

Andrew Powers

, and even though I thought it was a pretty bad movie, some of Coppola’s thoughts on the flow of time stuck with me. Throughout the film, Cesar Catilina, played by my ultimate celebrity crush, Adam Driver, contemplates how time’s passage affects his work. He possesses the ability to stop time at will, to live in one moment for as long as he wants to. Catilina talks so much (and I mean SO MUCH) about the flow of time, it’s evident that Coppola’s own anxieties about making something great before he runs out of time influenced the script, but for such a bad movie, that concept is remarkably relatable.

That’s what October feels like to me, the rest of the world is on pause, and for one month, I can watch the leaves change color, put on Practical Magic in the background, and wear all black with the witchiest of intentions. It makes me happy, I want to live in a world of endless October, but I’ll settle for one month. It’s when I feel the happiest, the weather is cool enough for me to wear the vintage suede jacket I bought on a whim from the flea market; it makes me long for New Jersey, for the apple orchards and pumpkin patches and haunted hayrides my teenage self was obsessed with but too scared to go on. Even as I sit and write this, I’m listening to a witchy playlist I made and finding myself lost in the memories of all Octobers past.

It’s funny, on September 30, I felt awful, depressed out of my mind (as documented here), and miserable, but the very next day, October 1, I felt okay. I carry so much stress and anxiety with me, it’s lodged into my very being and no matter what I do, it’s always with me, like a dark shadow I know I can’t escape. When I woke up on October 1, I subconsciously knew that things would change, I’ll be alright, I’ll find excitement and little joys in the world around me, and I can let that anxiety pass through me. That’s not to say that I’m completely fine, depression gone, mental health restored to full XP with the change of month; I’m fully aware that none of the circumstances that contributed to my negative mental state changed, but it’s October now, so there’s good all around me if I know where to look.

I know when I start to feel overwhelmed, when the world feels like it’s closing down on me, I can open a window. The leaves are there, changing color like I can change my mood. I can walk outside, through crunchy leaves, over acorns, and past porch pumpkins, re-center myself with memories of happy autumns. Whenever people tell me that the only way out is through, I close in on myself, it doesn’t make me feel better, it doesn’t give me an immediate solution, but in October, the only way out is through the leaves, as corny as that sounds. Autumn, October, Halloween, it’s my happy place. There’s joy and pumpkin carving and cider with my friends on the horizon.

this is what i see when i think of october

Every day feels like a small adventure, with October as the background. I feel like an amalgamation of every movie witch/girl in a Halloween-inspired setting, my low-waisted jeans and red leather blazer acting as my costume. I walk outside to pet the neighbor’s dog and watch as he rolls happily through a small pile of leaves. I can walk through the grocery store to buy Reese’s pumpkins and come face-to-face with the skeleton balloon. I’m grateful for the skeleton balloon, it reminds me of everything I love about the season. Maybe next time, I’ll get him.

edit: i wrote this piece Friday October 4, in the mid-afternoon, it’s now 11:30 pm. paul and i went to the grocery store to buy ingredients for the meal we were making and he bought the skeleton balloon for me. it lives on top of our bookshelf right now. i’ll be taking name suggestions (i will be personifying it)

the skeleton balloon in its new home, i took this photo 2 seconds ago

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i had to write something very light-hearted after my post earlier in the week, next week we will be going full autumn movie/horror vibes (i am so excited).

for my full list of autumn recommendations check out:

it's a FALLmininomenon

for details about my October writing challenge (it’s never too late to join), check out:

october is for daily journaling

consider upgrading your subscription to paid, if you’re able! for $6 a month (or $65 per year) you have access to one additional piece per week, monthly journal prompts, the discord server where we discuss pop culture and promote each other’s work, and more tailored recommendations! your support means everything <3

with a spooky amount of love,

sarah 🎃🕯️🍂💌

p.s.: weekly favorites

• intermezzo by sally rooney

• daily texts with

  Elle

• the outside cat that lives in my neighborhood

• my on repeat playlist

• penny dreadful (paul and i just started watching and i like it so far!)

• josh cellars pinot grigio (so i can make the tonight we let the josh talk comment)