Ofrenda

Day of the Dead. Today, I'm honoring the memory of my mother, whose sacrifices and perspectives I appreciate and miss every day. Her ofrenda would include a box of Jordan Almonds, dark cherries, black walnut ice cream, an LP of The Sound of Music soundtrack, fresh biscuits with butter and honey. Dr Pepper. A frayed paper nativity scene alongside a dream catcher.

Of course, if my mother's spirit is true to her earthly self, the holiday would hardly require an entire day. It goes something like this: Her soul arrives at the open door, spots the ofrenda and insists: “What's that? Well I'm not coming in. Which of your Catholic friends put you up to this? Get in the car. We're NOT staying!”