I am not, by my own admission, a religious person. I had my brief dalliance with organized religion and, like most things, it revealed its true colors and I decided it wasn’t for me. I was one of the ones who escaped unscathed. Able to look back and reflect on a weird phase of my life as I tried on different identities. To be fair, we were a military family, and my childhood was spent, the majority, on base. We attended a non-denominational service which, I feel, followed the Sunday Mass. Or something like that. My biggest disappointment with religion at the time is that they promised Jesus was going to come on Easter, and so I remember, as my mom made easter dinner when I was 7 or 8, I wanted to set a place for Jesus. Hmm. Memories are popping up. He never came, even though the service told me he had risen and I was somehow expecting him for dinner.