My first experience with Halloween I can recollect would have to be in either 1995 or 1996. Perhaps it was ‘95 because I believe my dad graduated Duke in ’96, which is when we moved into our first house as a family. Regardless, my brother and sister were dressed up. We lived in an apartment complex in Durham, and I could see kids by the bunches beginning to go out and fill the complex with joy and laughter from our window behind the couch. They were dressed strange--though I didn’t know what strange was at the time—but they seemed to be having fun, another concept in which I couldn’t define to myself during that time either. Crazy how you can feel things without having the ability to explain them, still happens often as far as I’m concerned.

My parents were helping my brother and sister get their costumes ready. They explained to me they were getting free candy for dressing up from the neighbors. Although I wasn’t familiar with the tradition of Halloween, I was familiar with candy. My mom would give me a piece of candy in what seemed to be once every blue moon, but I savored every time I received a piece. I was excited until I found out I wasn’t going trick or treating. I complained. I screamed. I cried. Still, to no avail, I never went out with my brother and sister that night. They came back with bags full of candy later in the night and were kind enough to share it with me.

Somethings are hard to explain, but easily understood. This is one of them.

6 years ago, I was 18. When I was 18, it felt like I had the whole world at my hands and my whole life ahead of me. I was consumed with the belief that I could do anything. It wasn’t so much arrogance as it was innate. You feel these things, you feel them deeply. It’s not anything you can justify, it’s something you know. Anything I wanted to be, whether it be an orthodontist, a writer, a rapper, or all three; my life would bring to me. Not necessarily bring to me, but destiny would meet myself and my hard work somewhere along in this lifetime. Anything I thought could happen, could happen, and anything I thought should happen, would happen. It was all meant to be if I wanted it to be.

Craver road. Walk sign is on. Craver road. Walk sign is on.

I’m 100% sure those words are ingrained in the head of every student who has attended UNC-Charlotte in the past decade. Craver road is the busiest road on Charlotte’s campus as far as pedestrian traffic goes. It runs in between the student union and the well-landscaped walk way headed towards the SAC. A memory I think of from time when I’m reminded of Craver road dates back to the fall semester of 2012, which was my sophomore year. I was walking out the student union headed towards Prospector not only to grab a bite to eat from Chick-Fil-A, but also to say what’s up to Ms. Barbara (a kind lady who once told me that nobody has to tell me I’m wonderful for me to be wonderful) as I hadn’t seen her in a while. As I stepped out headed towards Craver road, I notice an older white man in a wheel chair crossing the road. I looked at the digital timer located on the other side of the street and it was counting down at 2 seconds. He was only halfway when I looked back at him and he seemed to be struggling. I wasn’t afraid he would get hit by a car because the drivers can clearly see he’s trying his best to get across the road, and plus, who is that much of an asshole to lose their patience in situations like these? I know, I’d be surprised, but still, I noticed this and instead of hastening up my pace to help him cross the road, the exact opposite happened; I slowed down. It was a delay in my action, and by the time I made up in my mind that I was going to rush and help him cross the street, another gentleman in a collared shirt ran up and pushed the man in his wheelchair across the road. Once to the other side, I noticed them smiling and laughing, engaging in genuine interaction between the cars passing from the my side of Craver road.

Ask yourself a series of questions. What’s your name? Where do your ancestors come from? What city were you born in? Who delivered you? What day in what month in which year did you begin experiencing life? What does life mean to you? Does death scare you? If so, what does that fear mean to your life? If not, is there any fear in existing if fear doesn’t exist in nonexistence?