The Day of the Dead never meant very much to me as a child.
For a long time, it felt like a tradition that I was slowly outgrowing. As a young girl being raised in Mexico, the Day of the Dead was only about setting up an altar to a person my mother chose for me, like Gandhi or Francis of Assisi because she thought they were good role models; and as I got older I felt like it was just an effort to hold onto my childhood.
Read Full Article »