Growing up in the country, Halloween was never much on my radar.

In order to trick-or-treat in my “neighborhood,” you would be in for a lot of walking in-between houses.

The long, dirt road leading to my house was dark, led drivers through thick woods and, in a few spots, had drivers just inches from falling down a sharp drop into a creek.

The road was best suited for a horror movie rather than an inviting site to seek out candy.

Fast-forward a few dozens years, and I find myself now living in a community — a neighborhood — where trick-or-treating is not only accepted, but also downright encouraged.

If you as a homeowner choose to leave your front porch light off, signaling you have no intention of giving out candy, you are quite literally frowned upon.

This year, with three children — the youngest of which is now old enough to understand the rewards of Halloween — Halloween became a project, much like Christmas is a project to parents.

We had costumes to arrange, candy to stockpile and trick-or-treating events to coordinate.

We had a warm-up event at First Baptist’s fall festival. Then came Monday night.

As we, and a few friends, made our way through our neighborhood, we stopped at every house that had a light on.

The older children raced from door to door, while I lagged behind, holding hands with Fin, our 3-year-old, who let us just say, was moving at his own pace.

As we walked from door to door, house-to-house, I thoroughly enjoyed the almost frenzy that took place.

Trailers were being pulled through the neighborhood full of children — and a few teenagers — all celebrating what they had received from the previous house.

Cars stretched for what seemed like miles, letting their children dash from yard to yard, in a race for the next handful of candy.

And, of course, parents were already looking ahead to the sugar rush their children would be in later in the evening.

For me, the evening was not about the candy, the costumes or the frenzy, rather it was the time with our children.

Our oldest, Sarah Cameron, was on pace to set the world record for time between houses and getting as much as she could. For Clayton, 4, it was trying to keep up with his big sister and doing a darn good job at it.

At 3, Fin was in no rush, plus the plush dinosaur costume took its toll on his speed.

Each had a great time, only made better by the great atmosphere of our neighborhood and the time with friends.

At the end of the evening, my feet might have been aching, but I would not trade anything for those two hours with the kiddos. Monday night saw plenty of treats handed, but the time with my children was the biggest treat of all.

Tim Reeves is publisher of The Vicksburg Post. You may reach him at tim.reeves@vicksburgpost.com. Readers are invited to submit their opinions for publication.