Yes, we celebrate Halloween in Peru. Nevertheless, the meaning of it got lost somewhere in translation.

As a child, I could never really get a straight answer from my parents as to why people put on costumes and left their homes to get candy from a bunch of strangers. I suppose it was just fun back then, even if this tradition lacked a concise backstory.

As the years went by, costumes became less prominent within my family on Oct. 31. Instead, we chose to spend time with my cousin on his birthday, which overshadowed an adopted custom that had grown tiresome.

We would have forgotten about the existence of Halloween altogether if it weren’t for the countless street vendors scattered across Lima, who attempted to get rid of Spider-Man and Batman masks as if they had suddenly become unholy.

This year, the night of vengeful witches, lurking vampires and little girls dressed as Elsa from “Frozen” passed me by without spectacle. Sure, my friends came over and we had a good time, but that’s something that occurs every other weekend.

Ever since I’ve lived in the United States, I’ve partaken in numerous celebrations I only knew through books and movies. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t even heard of St. Patrick’s Day until I spotted a sea of green shirts on Wichita State’s campus.

However, I was always aware of Halloween — despite remaining oblivious to its origins — and am sorry to confess its enjoyable qualities escape me nowadays. I cannot grasp why I need to select a costume on that specific date and feel borderline obligated to go out and have a great evening. Then again, this is what people from my social circle tend to do.

What if I don’t want that? What if I merely desire to lay in bed all night and fall asleep to “How I Met Your Mother” as it plays on my iPad? How could there be anything wrong with that? In the end, everybody seems to understand something I don’t.