Love is the bridge

Every year around this time, I build my altar — candles, marigolds, and memories all aglow. Día de los Muertos reminds me that the people we love don’t vanish; they transform. Their energy lingers in laughter, in favorite songs, in the way light flickers just so. I think of Paco — my salsa partner with the red dancing shoes and the biggest smile in the room — and my dad, proudly wearing the team jersey “just in case they needed him to sub in.” Their spirits are still dancing, still cheering, still here — just across the bridge.