My family would go on vacation to Vietnam once every couple of years and stay for nearly the whole summer, and I very much disliked it. My home was much better; there was better wifi, technology, hygiene, and just better everything. I did not understand when I was little why we would spend thousands of dollars to live in worse conditions. I do admit I was a selfish and arrogant child during my younger years.

I mainly stayed at my grandma’s, a run-down house in the countryside with air conditioning in only one room. I was often confused about why we could not move since our family had enough money, but my grandma refused. I remember spending most of my days outside laying on a blue hammock and mindlessly watching motorcycles pass by, or staying in the one air-conditioned room playing Pokémon on my Nintendo DS. Occasionally, I would go to the beach which was always the highlight of the trip. My dad would leave me in my grandma’s care while he goes out all day, and she would try her best to take care of me. When the time came to go back home, I would always feel guilty because my grandma and other relatives would cry as they watched me walk into the airport and out of their view, but all I could think of was my home.

However, after a couple more trips and a few years onto my age, my view of these trips changed. My grandma’s age became more noticeable. She was becoming more paranoid and frequently forgetting where she had placed her belongings. I realized that she would eventually no longer be here, and these moments with her may be the last memories I have of her. These summers that I had spent in Vietnam were not a waste like I had thought when I was younger, but instead, memories to treasure.