"Lychees! Freshly plucked lychees!" bellowed the local street vendors outside my grandfather's modest bungalow.

It was a tiny little thing, the brick-laden bungalow, yet whenever I paid a visit to that boxed-in, concrete-roofed house and saw the iron gates to the cemented driveway, I knew I was in for another adventurous summer. These summer visits to India, I always looked forward to; the creative bursts of cultures and languages, the familiar, rustic streets of Delhi where I so fondly spent long, lazy summer days racing to the candy store alongside my cousins and playing cricket in the calcareous driveway, marked and worn by chalk lines from our games.

Amidst this, Grandfather sat on the porch, smiling and watching his grandchildren continue the tradition of family and love he ingrained within our family, in his carved wooden chair, now smooth from all his use and the sweltering Indian sun.

Coming from a large family himself, as the only boy from six children, he knew the responsibilities that having a family necessitates. His formula of determination, devotion, and optimism created the foundation of an unbreakable bond.

Striding confidently in his size eleven leather loafers from his small house to the Delhi District Court, he worked three jobs to support his family. Many people within the community can still remember him regularly rushing to catch his grandchildren's cricket games, all in his work attire, only to leave abruptly after the game to head to his next job, but not without a proper congratulation.

Despite being unable to provide his children with many material things, he provided them with opportunistic attitudes, fearlessness, and love, which have only been carried on through generations. These values cannot be bought, but only understood and felt through life's experiences.