Listening to my grandmother talk, the creases in the wrinkles around her mouth, the glisten in her eyes. The conductor like movement of her aged and worn hands as she tells her stories. Her thick accent that is slowly fading with those of her generation. There’s so much knowledge and experience and wisdom to offer me. I latch onto every single word that comes out of her mouth because I know time is limited. For me, hopefully there are many days ahead. For her, she believes truly that any day of the week could be her last. It’s important to me to observe, to pay attention, and to cherish every single second. Most of my days are entirely mundane and repetitive. My daily to-dos are more along the lines of chores. To look at the world through my grandmother’s eyes. Through the eyes of someone who has a terminal illness, each day is a blessing.