Carving Out Smiles

The friendly jack-o-lantern that stood guard over their front porch was Eben Henderson’s crowning achievement.

Logan could remember the way his six-year-son’s honey-brown eyes had lit up as soon as he’d spotted that one perfect pumpkin amongst the field of orange. It was no competition. Somehow, that particular pumpkin had called out to him, and there was no further negotiation. The curly-haired boy had run out into the center of the field, pointed out the one he wanted, and Logan had carried it all the way back to the car. The trip to the pumpkin patch, an event they had allotted the entire day for, in reality had only taken fifteen minutes at the most.

It was the first time they’d ever allowed him to be involved in the pumpkin carving process, and while he still wasn’t old enough to be trusted with the actual carving, he seemed to get a kick out the entire process. The little boy’s eyes widened as he watched his dad make that first slice into the orange flesh, cutting off the top of the pumpkin so that they could clean out the insides. That was the part that Eben enjoyed the most, the messiest aspect of it all, plunging his fingers into the pumpkin and fishing out all of the seeds and pulp, the parts they jokingly nicknamed “pumpkin guts.”

Logan flipped through the textured pages of a Halloween activity book, letting Eben decide which jack-o-lantern expression he liked the best. His sticky finger jabbed at a page featuring a friendly jack-o-lantern sporting a buck-toothed grin, so that was the look that they went with. Logan had to admit that he was a little surprised by his son’s selection. He would’ve guessed the rambunctious child would’ve preferred a more frightening expression, especially since he’d just reached that age where he was absolutely fascinated with Halloween movie monsters.

Nevertheless, Logan spread the page across the front of the pumpkin and taped it into place. Wrapping his hand around Eben’s tiny grip, Logan guided the boy as they traced the jack-o-lantern’s features with a marker. Pleased with the results, Eben watched intently as his father carved in the outline with a knife, tearing into the fruit’s waxy skin with each cut.

The final touch was a flameless candle, which Eben placed in the center of the jack-o-lantern, casting its features in a cozy yellow glow. Two pairs of brown eyes stared in awe at their creation, and as always, the six-year-old was the first to break the silence.

“Can we just keep it in here?” he asked, his lower lip jutting outward. “I wanna be able to see it.”

“Sorry buddy,” Logan replied, patting the space between the boy’s shoulders. “Don’t you want to put it out on the porch so that everyone can see it as they drive by?”

Eben’s eyes tilted upward for a moment, as if he had to consider the idea. “Yeah!”

For the month of October, that pumpkin had a home.