So I must tell you something, Dear Diary: the morning after Día de los Muertos, there were children sleeping on the bakery’s doorstep. I have seen them before, walking around or sitting on the benches by the park; they are the street children, the homeless ones. Gabriella says they sleep on rooftops in cardboard boxes or old storm pipes or inside empty buildings, if they are lucky. Ay mio! I have seen them begging to wash car windows, but times are hard and people don’t want to give money for that. This morning, Mama opened the bakery door and told them to wake up and move before customers arrived. She gave each of them some leftover bread and cookies. They ate like starving birds, their mouths open so wide.