I've never been exactly fond of dressing up on Halloween or decorating for it, but it may be the one night of the year I've always felt most at home here in our little corner of the world.

Tromping up and down streets with my daughter that I once visited on this very same night three decades prior, I've never been able to walk more than a few dozen feet without being stopped to gab with someone I knew in high school, elementary school or maybe even farther back.

As much as it is a day for kids to load up on all things sugary, it's become a day to reconnect with my community, to visit friends, to mark another year of watching the neighborhood's children pass yet another milestone.

I'm going to miss that feeling this weekend.

As with most things in 2020, this Halloween is putting a whole new spin on weird.

Granted, by its very nature, Halloween is supposed to be weird. It's the holiday born out of a time when it was believed the dead could cross over to the land of the living for one night.

See what I mean? Weird.

But there's something weirder still about knowing that I'll spend this holiday at home for the first year in 15, parked on the couch perhaps or catching up on household duties.

Parents are planning backyard egg hunts in October, homeowners are rigging up complicated systems to send candy flying out windows and hurling it across yards to accommodate 6-foot distancing rules, and kids? Well, kids have no idea what is going on.

They're carving pumpkins for porches that will remain dark on the final night of Daylight Savings Time and putting in their request for costumes they may never even get to wear.

As parents, we will all muddle through on their behalf, but as they miss a classic night of childhood fun, let's all remind ourselves we're missing out on something too.

It's OK to be sad that things are weird.