I stepped behind him vigilantly, slowly progressing forward as his frail body made its way through the dated living room where his own son and grandchildren once took their beginning steps.  I, his fifteen year old granddaughter, posed as any mother would while overseeing the actions of a newborn, gasping at every slight stumble this sick man made as he courageously walked across the aged carpet, sharing in the triumph evident in the toothless grin that extended from cheek to cheek.

My choice to spend my Saturdays off from work with my ill grandfather is not always one that comes from pure conscience.  Like many teenage girls my age, I believe there are better ways to spend my weekends.  Trips to the extravagant Tyson’s Corner or simply gathering with friends at Starbucks are more ideal.  To be honest, I occasionally dread the hours that are spent catering to my grandparents’ constant needs.  At times, I visit only out of an existing guilt that is displayed through dreams after not stopping by for a week.  These dreams recollect the priceless memories shared at the corner of Lakeview Drive, the treasured family home of the Cazan family.

The home that resides there, an antique if you’re judging by the 50-year standards, is my grandfather’s life.  It is his agricultural roots, evident within the half-acre lot that has been tended to out of pure dedication and pride. It is the essence of his Romanian genes; reflected in the decorations carefully chosen for authenticity by my grandmother years ago and in the imported wine—of which he religiously has a glass.  It is his intellectual drive, staggering high on bookshelves piled with authors ranging from Jefferson to Cosbu’c.  It is his love, glowing through the walls he himself built.

That’s why I return.  I return because of love he and my grandmother have for their family, and their desire to see their posterity embrace their blessings.

In overwhelming moments, however, I am tempted to plan a quick escape, one of which involves calling my mother with pleas of why I should be immediately picked-up.  But after fiercely dialing the digits, my hand surrenders to my heart, recollecting that toothless grin.  The temptation to leave subsides, and before resuming my duties I find my feet traveling across the gold living room to check upon my beloved grandfather who remains, like an infant, sound asleep.