Our old family friend, Slim, emerged from his state of semi-hibernation in early October, as is his custom.  After eleven months in the dim silence of my mother’s basement, he was a bit taken aback by the bright warmth of the autumn sunshine and the profusion of life that was bursting forth outdoors.

Quite the nature lover, Slim was amazed at the continued proliferation and abundance of our summer flowers. “Is it July?,” he exclaimed. Usually long gone by October, this year the impatiens have kept flourishing, and growing, their stems over three feet in height. They almost completely hide the fountain, providing a sheltering hedge for a pair of frogs who claimed it as a homestead. The frogs grew steadily and serenaded one another loudly for months. Now they watch over a bevy of tadpoles. Their well-being in the face of approaching cold weather has been worrisome for Slim. Because the fountain must be drained before temps dip to freezing, he has vowed to help us relocate our amphibian friends to the nearby creek.

On sunny afternoons, Slim could often be found soaking up the rays alongside the opulent petunias on Mama’s back deck. Loyal canine twins Rocky and Ruth were usually by his side.

Slim delights in the charms of seasonal decor. He put the finishing touches on the Halloween display around my most recently constructed dollhouse, placing a couple of tiny Sculpey-clay jack-o’-lanterns just so. He has a heart for little things as well as little critters, and no detail is too insignificant to escape his observant eye.

After Slim amped up the festive decorations on my mother’s kitchen table, it became one his favorite inside spots, for sitting, chatting, and watching the many birds at the feeder. He noticed before I did that the slate-colored juncos had returned. He offered helpful tips as I worked at a recent endeavor: trying to make iced sugar cookies that are decorative as well as tasty. With his assistance, my efforts improved. It shouldn’t have surprised me in the least to learn that he has a deft hand with a pastry bag.

Every night, Slim assumes a post at a front window, looking out on the neighborhood until drifting off to sleep and to sweet Halloween dreams. Seeing him there as I pass my mother’s house on Kiko’s last walk of the evening, I’m reminded of Riff Raff peering out of that upper window in Rocky Horror Picture Show, and his words echo in my head:

There’s a light. . .over at the Frankenstein place.

There’s a light. . . light. . .in the darkness of everybody’s life.