A Halloween Memory

“It’s time to make the witches brew!” I called upstairs to my young granddaughter. She raced down and into the kitchen. “What’s first,” I asked, “what’s the first thing we should get?”  “The blood, Grandma, the blood; we have to start with the blood.” She dove into the refrigerator and grabbed the tomato juice. “Okay, good, pour in lots of it. We need to fill the pot.”

“Now what should I get Grandma?” “Mmm, perhaps the guts, don’t you think?”  “Okay, I’ll get them. I know exactly where they are.” I silently congratulated myself for remembering to save some leftover spaghetti from last night’s supper, since I was pretty sure Madeline would want to make the brew again this year. Into the pot went the “guts.”  “I know what’s next,” she laughed, “the eyes!”   Climbing onto a stool to reach the counter, my eager, young witchy chef grabbed a fistful of grapes, climbed down and dumped them in the pot.”

It was then time to stir the pot and say the special words.  I handed Madeline a big wooden spoon and we began to chant; “Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble.” Stir, cackle, cackle, stir, cackle!

It looked ready yet it felt like something was missing. What was it?  Madeline, of course, knew right away. “Grandma, we forgot the heart! We need the heart. It’s the most important part of all.”   Out the screen door with a bang, Madeline took off, jumping from the porch and running down the path to the garden. She searched and searched and searched some more until, at last, she found it. Nestled under yellowing leaves, only one remained.  She plucked it off the stem and headed back to the kitchen. Her little hands, stained red, held it out.  “Here it is, here it is, Grandma. I found it.”    Then she dropped that perfect, red, ripe strawberry into the pot.

She had found the heart.