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October 31st 1969
It was a bitter cold evening, as the sun fell early during the mid-autumn night of Halloween.
The wind wasn’t frequent, but came in strong, bending tree branches to its will, and carrying an ice-cold draft with its occasional visit.
For Paul McCartney, Halloween was a bittersweet holiday, despite more than a decade has passed since this day became an anniversary of sadness.
Being a well adored time of festivities for many places around the world, the Beatle learned to get over his grief enough to honor his obligations as a famous musician.
He knew how to go with the flow for the occasion, but painfully, the 31st of October was also the anniversary of the well renowned man’s mother’s untimely death.
McCartney knew he couldn’t avoid this holiday, and learned how to attend parties dressed in costumes, more so as a part of his job, until the drinking began, and then the sorrows were gone.
However now the bassist of the Beatles was no longer a childless bachelor, but married that previous March to Linda formerly Eastman, a photographer, and divorced mother with a little girl.
Instead of attending parties, the new father of a six-year-old and a new baby, was taking the older child out trick-or-treating, while Linda stayed with the infant at home.
It wasn’t official yet, but soon Heather would be a McCartney, as the adoption process took its time to finalize.
Now the six-year-old paraded around her new dad, dressed as a ballerina, and waving a pumpkin shaped bundle filled with candy already.
Paul was feeling tired, and rather cold by now.
He and his new eldest daughter had been outside for hours, and the child seemed to have even more energy than before.
Where the grown man longed to be warm and comfortable at home with the new baby, Mary, who was just two months old.
The infant was too young to enjoy this activity, and she wouldn’t be able to handle the New England climate, in the eastern part of the United States this time of year.
“I like the graveyard.” Little Heather suddenly spoke, as she pointed out a mock cemetery in the front of a well decorated house.
Paul had to silently admit it was a cute display. Upon the cardboard headstones read silly names like “Scary Harry!” and “Frankenfooter Dog,” scattered across a well-manicured lawn.
It was obviously a nice home, and the decorations seemed to have required a lot of time to create.
“It’s very nice.” The new father agreed, or so he thought.
“It's not nice!” The child boldly scolded. “It’s scary!” she promptly corrected, walking ahead, with her pink tutu swaying in the wind.
“Don’t you think it’s cold?” Paul then asked, wrongly assuming he could reason with the child.
“No!” Heather replied, skipping further ahead.
The father was learning, giving options was not always a good idea.
“I think you have enough candy.” The dad told the young one.
“I don’t.” The little ballerina responded back, with her headstart and upping her pace!
Secretly the child knew she was more than a ballerina. Heather had already decided she was really a fairy, flying across the black pavement, and gallivanting through the well decorated neighborhood.
Paper ghosts floated under the shade of a freshly planted sapling, and pumpkins lined every stairway leading to a front door.
There were still more houses the pair hadn’t visited yet, but the child unrealistically intended on collecting her sugary treat from every building in the area. Perhaps the entire world!
Then the secret fairy felt her feet fly off the ground, as her new father lifted her in the air.
“It’s getting late, it’s time to go.” Paul informed the ballerina, at least as far as he knew.
“No!” the smaller one protested, but quickly knew her powers were defenseless to this man her mother brought into her life.
“Come on.” The new father said, as he hoisted the child over his shoulder. “I’ll stop and get us ice cream.” He then promised.
“Very well.” Heather relented, knowing she had no real choice, but at least ice cream was part of the deal.
In less than an hour, the two each received a cone from the nearest ice cream shop, before it was about to close.
With the frigid temperature, it went without saying that the father and daughter would sit in the front bench seat of the car, to eat their frozen desserts.
Both parent and child had a pink strawberry flavor ball, atop a modest size sugar cone, which they silently licked, when Paul turned on the radio.
First the news was announcing something unimportant, until the man flipped the station and kept on turning the knob, until he found a tune he liked, in mid song.
It was the Rolling Stones, “Honky Tonk Woman,” which McCartney saw fit to remain playing.
“I don’t like this song.” The ballerina with a strawberry covered mouth criticized.
“You don’t?” The father asked surprised, only to be answered by the blonde hair shaking back and forth.
“Very well.” Paul relented, and flipped past a few stations.
“Go back.” Heather then ordered over the past tune that just been carelessly skipped. “I like that song.” She declared, as Paul spun the dial back a single knob.
“…can’t believe it’s true,
I just can’t believe,
The wonder of this feeling, too
I just can’t believe it’s true.” The animated band called the Archie’s rang from the speakers.
“You really like this?” the new father dared ask.
“Shush!” the daughter silenced the man.
“Ah, sugar
Oh, honey, honey
You are my candy girl
And you got me wanting you” she proceeded to sing along with the radio.
The father watched in awe, as the child managed to keep up with the song, in between licking her frozen treat.
“Pour a little sugar on it, oh yeah,” Paul joined in, trying to be part of the moment.
“Dad!” the child scolded. “You’re ruining the song!”
“Are you saying I can’t sing?” the professional musician inquired.
“Yes!” the six-year-old criticized.
This made the new father laugh, as he waited for the song to end. It finished with an advertisement for McDonald’s following immediately afterwards, in which the adult figured it was now safe to talk.
“So do you like having me as your dad?” the man wanted to know.
“I do.” The adopted daughter answered, as she kept her attention on her ice cream, until turning her head around, to face the man who married her mother.
“You’re just annoying sometimes.” She told him bluntly. “But don’t worry, you’ll grow out of it.” The child wisely stated.
Paul couldn’t help but laugh again at the brutal honesty he was receiving.
“Do I make you happy?” McCartney wanted to know.
“You do.” Heather replied, licking away at her treat.
However, she stopped, and gazed up upon the man by her side.
“Do I make you happy?” the child then asked, with those blue eyes beneath the disheveled blonde hair.
“Every moment.” The new dad assured. “Now put on your seatbelt.” He ordered, while failing to strap on his own, as he naturally started the vehicle.
“Do you want to go home?” he then asked, as the man shifted gears to back out.
“I don’t have a choice.” The little blond-haired girl remarked, as Paul backed out of the parking spot.
“You’re right.” He agreed. “I guess you really don’t.” he admitted, pulling towards the road from the opening of the parking lot.
“I’m glad you’re my dad.” Heather simply stated, before her new, soon to be legal father, could pull the car onto the open street.
It was then Paul’s heart sank.
Every word from the strawberry soiled mouth was pure honesty.
These were the most sincere observations of himself he had ever heard in a long time.
The new father wrapped his arm around the child who he felt first truly gave him that title, even if things weren’t official yet.
“I’m glad to be your father!” He told her, meaning it from the bottom of his heart.
“Of course you are.” His daughter simply responded. “I’m cute!” she added, along with her adorable messy smile.
“You certainly are.” The Beatle agreed, as he pulled out on the street, taking his daughter home, knowing he was the luckiest man alive.