I got lucky in the family department. We have so many stories that If you head half of them you'd think they were made up.My moms side of the family lives in colombia and the other side of my dads lives in florida. Each side has lots to offer.  When I think of my grandpa on my moms side I see all the laughs we have had. Considering he lives 3,135 miles away I don't get to see him often but the memories are vivid enough that I feel like I'm reliving the moment. The moments that made me laugh so hard I felt sick to my stomach. I'm very grateful for him because when the time does come to say goodbye I will have so many amazing things to say about him.

Anytime I was with my grandpa I was always getting my self into trouble along with a scraped knee. I would always rather him take me to the park instead of my mom because he would let me go on the big kids slide with no hesitation. My mom on the other hand would be too much of a mother and barely let me touch the swing sets because she was always scared I would get hurt. She was right, I don't remember a single time that I came home perfectly fine without a scratch. I remember one time my grandpa took me to the park and was watching me swing on the monkey bars. Looking back it wasn't a very smart idea. The park we would always go to was not the very nicest but that's what made it fun.The little rock climbing wall had almost all the rocks missing from it.The playground set was made from wood so a couple of the planks were missing. The seesaws never worked either.none of that mattered because I only used the monkey bars. The yellow monkey bars had a terrible smell of old metal. The paint was chipping off so it made parts of the monkey bars have rust all over it giving you little cuts all over your hands. I remember on one particular day there was a pair of boulders directly under the monkey bars. I went on them anyway’s not realizing the risk involved. Mind you I was so little that when I hung off of it I could probably stack three more of me to touch the ground. So falling was not an option. Having very sweaty hands is a gene that runs through my dad's side and of course It was passed down to me. Sweaty hands and a metal bar is a recipe for disaster. And there I was. I cleared the first bar while my grandpa cheered for me on the bench. Faster than a blink of a second I fell to my inevitable doom. I thought I died but even better I walked away with only two scraped elbows and a scraped knee. I would be lying if I said I didn't cry. My grandpa put me on his shoulders and walked me home laughing the entire way. I will admit looking back he had all the reason to laugh. I think he was just nervous to take me home to my grandma and mom because they would never let down this moment. And to my surprise that's exactly what happened. Immediately when my grandma saw the blood she grabbed the bandaids, sat me down and put the bandaids on with frustration. Poor grandpa was getting yelled at by both my mom and grandma. Too bad for them because stuff like this happened all the time and that's what made it fun. The best part of all of it was the signature snack he would always make to cheer me up. It was the sausage from a hot dog cut up into little octopus shapes with a side of homemade fries.Along with little tooth picks that I used as utensils. The scraped elbow were just minor casualties. The main point is that grandpa taught me to be strong and not be afraid of a little scratch. On a bigger scale something important came from it even though it was accidental. All these accidents helped me realize that in the end life goes on and you either go along with it or stay stuck. Little bumps in the road shouldn't put you to a complete stop.

Fast forward many years later. It was about two summers ago when I did my annual trip to Colombia to go visit my grandparents.I was about 15 years old and this was the age when every teenager would start practicing to go and get their permit for driving. Mind you I'm 17 years old now and still don't even have my license but that's beside the point. My parents thought it was a great idea to put me into driving lessons in a country I barely knew. And to top it all off they made me learn stick. In Colombia, roads are already crazy enough at night so imagine it in the day time ,not any better. I walked to the instructors car that was parked outside of our house and I got in the driver's seat. The car was disgusting. It had trash all under the seats, as well as hairs all over the chairs. The steering wheel was sticky from who knows what.I didn't say anything and stuck it up. I felt a little more safe because my dad came along with me and the instructor had pedals of his own on his side of the car. Driving stick was probably one of the hardest things I have done at the time because I didn't even know which side was the gas. The first day was pretty simple. We would go in circles through the neighborhood while the car would casually turn off either because I forgot to press the clutch down or put the car in the wrong gear. The next day the instructor was telling me where to go and he led me out of the neighborhood about to merge into the main road. I was freaking out because i've only been driving for a day. As I looked onto the road and saw the on coming traffic and saw endless possibilities on how this would end. There were probably the same amount of motorcycles as cars. Motorcyclist are especially scary driving with because they feel as if they can do whatever they want switching lanes left and right.The time came where I had to turn and I did, Just like I did every other lesson. I made it out ok not a scratch on the car. I remember the day like it was yesterday.It was  July 24,2019. I got in the car with the instructor along with my grandpa who wanted to tag along this time. We started the class with the daily rounds through the town. Then out of nowhere he led me to the highway and there I drove for two hours straight which was way past my class time. We were in the next city over. So many thoughts are going through my head. “Is he trying to kidnap me.” “Is this how I die?” Finally he tells me to get off the highway and takes me to this rundown part of town. I was a little scared mostly because I didn't know where I was so everything looked sketchy to me. He then abruptly told me to stop. Out of nowhere I heard the car door open.This lady gets in the car screaming. My grandpa looks at me through the mirror as he scoots over to the other side. I for sure thought we were getting mugged. Turns out I was the driving instructor's personal taxi . The driving instructor forgot to pick up his wife so I had to do it for him. She did not look too happy because she was screaming at the both of us. I was so nervous that I ran a speed bump so hard everyone in the car got some air. That definitely did not make the screaming any better but she sure deserved it.Eventually we dropped the lady off and drove back home. Me and my grandpa went upstairs to find my mom and dad waiting. “How did it go, they said?” Grandpa and I just stared at each other at a loss of words. We told them everything and they couldn't stop laughing. I just was so happy to be safe with my parents. I'm honestly thankful I got to experience such a crazy day like I had.Its not everyday you get yelled at by crazy people. Ever Since that day, trying new things and taking risks have come a little bit easier. I have so many more amazing stories about me and my grandpa that if I wrote it all we would be here forever.