Sarah Jessica Parker Is Carrie Brad-SHOCKED Someone Stole Her Pumpkins
Credit to Author: Carrie Bradshaw| Date: Thu, 31 Oct 2019 19:08:54 +0000
[Editor's Note: We learned today that someone appears to have stolen Sarah Jessica Parker's pumpkins off her New York City stoop. We asked beloved VICE columnist Carrie Bradshaw to weigh in on what it all means.]
I was curled up in bed Halloween morning, a day when we all get to be the one thing we all wish we could be: a sexy nurse, a hot firefighter, a sailor trapped in Samantha's bedroom. I had no costume, but I was dressed as the thing I've most craved as a single city gal with a long streak of disappointments in her past—I was…in love.
"It's Halloween today," I said as my cheek laid bare-faced on Big's chest. "Abso-spooky-lutely," he replied. He rolled over on top of me, and I felt his spirit that morning. That's when I realized it. All the years of being frightened by the goblins and ghouls I faced while dating in New York City were finally gone. Because in true love relationships, the fear is always there, but when you find the Frankenstein's monster to your Bride of Frankenstein, there's less to be afraid of.
I was floating on a cloud as we walked to the kitchen to enjoy our daily morning tradition—several cups of coffee and quietly reading the paper. I put on my spider-print Manolos in a fit of whimsical festivity and walked down the steps of our apartment to grab the paper. And then I noticed something was missing.
Our beautiful pumpkins, the ones we carefully handpicked on our last trip Upstate; the ones I held as we strolled through a pumpkin patch hand-in-hand; the ones I clutched as Big casually mentioned he may or may not be moving to Paris for a year and I'd have to just deal with it, were gone. At some point in the night, while Big and I were sleeping under the moonlight, they were stolen. Their round, orange bodies, uncarved and unblemished by the harshness of New York City, now knew what it felt to be missing. I couldn't help but wonder, is this city—is this love—also stealing a part … of me?
"That's tough breaks, baby," said Big when I told him our pumpkins had been stolen. I stared, shocked into silence at how he could shrug off the loss.
There are thieves and there are pumpkins. It was in that moment I saw it: I was the pumpkin. Are we fools to believe that if we leave our hearts unattended we can feel safe on the city stoops that is our love? Can thieves ever truly understand that in taking a pumpkin they take a part of us? When it comes to relationships, who has the upper hand: the pumpkin or the thief?
Jazzy music plays.
This article originally appeared on VICE US.