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I had never visited him in San Lois Obispo, California. I was afraid to ask if I could come visit him. I thought maybe if I was attractive like my cousins, Katrina, Greta and Johanna I would have had the opportunity like they had. I dreamed of the adventures I would have of being at his home. I had often pictured myself on his front porch, with binoculars while I looked out over the ocean and could hear the sounds of the spectacular waves as they hit the shore. My Grandfather’s stories of how phenomenal the sunset looked over the ocean made me speculate if I would ever see it. His camera was always strapped around his neck, as if it was a part of his body. I saw him take several pictures and I knew I would never see them once developed. I felt a barrier between my Grandpa and me. I couldn’t seem to figure out what caused it. Maybe it was the words that my Grandmother had spoken of. Then I knew it couldn’t have been, because he won’t speak to my Grandmother. Maybe he thought we were trash compared to my aunt’s family. But, when I thought of Paul and how much he loved me, I began to feel valuable.