I don’t know about anyone else, but I never wanted to leave my grandparents’ house. How could I want to, they let me eat all the unhealthy snacks, spoiled me, hosted every family barbeque and the list goes on.

Let me paint a little picture for you. Meet Papa Steve, my grandfather. A tall, dark, charming man. He came all the way from Sunny California to try to pursue a life in Colorado. Papa Steve is such a loveable person, and he’s the magnet of any function. He tells a ton of jokes and silly skits. He sings whatever he has stuck in his head like a broken record. 

Now meet Susan, my grandma. To describe her, she’s a petite Mexican woman, content in cooking for her family. Her Mexican dishes are to die for, everything is seasoned from the heart. My favorite feeling is walking in after school and getting a nose full of that good cooking. She brings traditional Mexican dishes to the table like posole, sopapillas and the best chili you’ve ever put in your mouth. 

My grandparents hold a special place in my heart because, not only are they grandparents, they are also my caretakers, underpaid nannies, personal chefs and sometimes my maid. I couldn’t show enough appreciation for every time one of my grandparents gave me a ride, brought me food or bought me something after I swore I could pay for it. 

My grandparents made me who I am. I wouldn’t be the same person without them. My grandparents gave me a safe and comfortable home for whenever I needed it, which turned out to be always. I will always need to smell my grandma’s cooking and look forward to my papa making me laugh. They impact my day every day just by being them.