If you could meet anyone in the world, dead or alive, who would it be? Sometimes I think about all the really cool people in history who's brains I'd like to pick. But in reality, if I had the chance, it would be my grandparents. My mothers parents live(d) in California and my fathers parents in Mexico. I've only met my grandparents in Mexico perhaps three times in my life and there was always the language barrier because I don't speak fluent Spanish. The only memory that stands out of my fathers dad is when we went down for a visit when I was nine. My abuelito had a pet turtle that had gotten lost somehow and he had all the grandchildren on the lookout for it. He promised that whoever found his turtle first would be able to color his shell. Everyone was out looking in the gardens, under the rosebushes, on the balconies, in all the bedrooms, down the street, in the cornfields. We were all so determined to find that turtle! I don't remember who actually found it but I remember him holding his turtle showing everyone the end result of the colored shell. It was the most beautiful sight to see for a nine year old. He passed the turtle down and we all got to take turns adding more color to his shell. It's my only real memory of him and I hope to never lose it.
While my mothers parents were only a couple of states away, I don't feel as if I knew them well enough. My grandmother was present in our lives in every way that she could manage, what with the distance and all. She would always send us little gifts and treats for every holiday. She would write us letters asking how we were doing in school. When we went down to visit she would make us treats, dates with cream cheese and powdered sugar. My fondest memory of her was when she came up for a visit one summer and we went for a walk in the evening, just me and her. We were walking along when I had found a robins egg on the side of the dirt road; it looked as if it must have fallen from the bush that was nearby. I was so surprised by how small and how blue it looked that I thought it must be a fake. I squished it in my hand and it exploded and made a mess everywhere. My grandma laughed and told me to run back home and clean myself up. I remember for years I would walk by that same spot and look for robins eggs hoping to find another.
Despite having a handful of fond memories of my grandparents, I don't feel as if I knew them well enough. The trouble with grandparents is that they mean something different to you as a child. They're the ones who buy you treats and gifts that your parent's wouldn't let you have. Sometimes they wipe your tears away when you feel as if the world is treating you unfair, as unfair as the world can treat a young child. They check up on you to make sure you're doing well and they call just to say hi. But that's what they do when you're a child, when you're an adult it's different. But how is it different? I never got to know my grandparents after age eleven. More often than not I find myself wondering who these people were because in reality they were strangers. What were their likes and dislikes? What did they believe in? What sort of things did they experience? They lived through some of the toughest times of the century, what did they see? Were their lives any different because they had met me? Would they approve of my life right now? If they were still alive to offer guidance would I be on a completely different path? So many questions with answers that I don't think I'll ever hear. I suppose the real trouble with grandparents is that you don't know how much they mean until they're gone.
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