I cried when I saw Up in theaters. The grumpy man, who has reason enough to be a sourpuss, tries to fly to Paradise Falls by lashing balloons to his house. Carl has lost his beloved Ellie, and neighbors are trying to force him to move away. John and I once lived in the land of hot air balloons, Albuquerque, but we have no ambitions for the sky. 

Halloween is an open invitation to become someone else for a few hours. Sort of like theater, but with no script. I laughed to see my brother and his wife be transformed into Carl and his buoyant house. Their son and his family filled out the cast without leaving the ground. 

There is another kind of levity that shows up when we pull on clothes and personas that redefine us. In truth, my brother is not a grouch, but he told everyone who would listen to "get off my porch". I think he enjoyed it. 

Figuring out who we are necessitates knowing who we are not. I remember losing my cool with my children when they outnumbered me and were shorter than I. 

"This is not who I am. Not who I want to be," I told myself. 

The time spent being the angry mother fueled my intention to be a calm one. Being able to rise above the circumstances that once made me fume is magical enough to make me cry.