I crack the shell of a peanut and throw the nut over my shoulder to the squirrels that are inconspicuously following us. My grandpa chuckles and tightens his hold on Pepe’s leash to keep him from chasing after the squirrels. I know I don’t have to break the shells for the squirrels, but I like doing it anyway. I glance back and notice the group has grown. My grandpa and I take a seat at a nearby bench overlooking the lake in John Prince Park. Summer has just started, and the air has yet to be filled with the humidity associated with the season. There is a nice breeze, and for a moment, everything becomes still. The picture is engrained into my memory: the pine trees, offering the perfect amount of shade; the still water of the lake, reflecting the image of the trees on the far bank; the twitter of the birds, sweet and comforting; and my grandpa, relaxed and happily enjoying his retirement. I move closer to him and hug him. “I love you, Abuelo,” I would say. These are the cherished memories of my grandpa, Jesus Roberto Martinez.
So thats the first paragraph to my college essay about the person who has had a significant influence on my life, my grandpa.