I believe in Grandmothers. The woman that is always loving, warming, and there.
I was born a statistic. My mother had me when she was fourteen and my father was seventeen. Statistically, I was already behind academically, I would probably live in poverty and life would more than likely be more difficult. I don’t think my grandma believed in that. Due to my parent’s young age, my grandmother frequently took care of me while they struggled to grow up themselves. She barely spoke English, didn’t finish school, and never had much of an education. She was currently raising four children of her own and trying to make it. We didn’t have much and the living conditions weren’t that great. However, the whole time I never knew we were poor; I guess because I was never hungry and probably because I didn’t know what I was missing out on. I spent a lot of time with my grandma in her little yellow house; my mother eventually moved in with my father and his parents so I basically grew up in grandma’s house.
My grandmother took a big part in raising me, and I don’t know what it was, but whatever made the way I am, began with her. I think it was the way she made that expression when I tried to explain what I did in school, how she would raise her eyebrows and say, “Good, good.” I could tell she wanted to say something more but didn’t know the words. It didn’t matter, I knew going to school made her happy. She encouraged me even if she didn’t know what I was saying. I saw how I affected her so I always wanted to do the best. My grandmother didn’t believe I was a statistic, in fourth grade she was already saying I was going to be a doctor because I made the A honor roll. The funny thing is that I began to believe her. Because of her I never thought I was dumb or I couldn’t go to college. It was never a thought in my head and regardless if she knew English, she knew school was important. Today, I currently attend Texas State University and it makes me proud to make her proud. She is a beautiful woman; she’s in her 60’s and still calls me almost every day to see how I am doing. She still raises her eyebrows and says “good, good,” but now she understands a lot more. She cleans houses and doesn’t make much money but is always trying to give me money and make sure that I’m fed, but hey, I can’t complain about the food. I asked her one time why does she do so much for me and she simply replied, “Because it makes me happy”. She taught me how to love and care, and encouraged me to make it. I believe in her because she believed in me.
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