Sitting in the crook of a cushioned armchair, I watch the smiling faces of infants flash across the screen of my aunt 's TV. I shift my weight to fold into a more comfortable position, only to be met by a cry of protest. I quickly jump up, my maternal switch being flipped, and begin to soothe. I whisper an old lullaby and hold her hands in mine. Once she has calmed down, I rewind to the beginning of the recorded Huggies commercial, as I had done hundreds of times before, and allow my grandmother to laugh and coo at the toothless grins on the television.
My grandmother, or Abuelita as I like to call her, was diagnosed with Alzheimer 's disease a year before I was born. I grew up knowing that she was different from other grandparents, but I never thought that she would teach me what it is to be responsible for another human being.
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When I first arrived, I was an immature pre-teen eager for a 2-month vacation. It didn 't take me long to realize that I was not there to sit by a pool and relax, in fact, I rarely left my aunt 's apartment. My days consisted of feeding, clothing, and bathing her, like a mother to a child. After the initial shock of my new responsibilities, my outlook completely changed. My grandmother was no longer a burden. I fell in love with all that I was doing for her. I didn 't care how challenging or exhausting it was. Any of her needs pulled ahead of my