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By Gregorian reckoning, 42 years ago my mother died, four months and 27 days ago it was my father.
That tends to the immutable — why the dead get by with everything.
That October 30 once was the occasion for a small family jack-o’-lantern competition, a friend's birthday, or the date of a child’s Halloween concert seems rather more mutable.
Least mutable, there is no justice, just us.
I suppose the best we can hope for is a ride on Binky.