Five Things I Learned
from Día de los Muertos
In La Paz, Baja California Sur, Mexico, the first two days November smell like marigolds and desert sand and sea air. The plaza fills with laughter, candlelight, and men in glorious drag as Catrinas—lace fans, painted faces, and all. My parents lived there for twenty years, and every fall they wandered through the town square, admiring the ofrendas and soaking in that mix of reverence and joy.
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