Just like any other day in first grade, my grandpa was standing outside my school, waiting to pick me up. My grandpa was tall, had white hair, and had a very calm and loving personality. After he had talked to my teacher about how I had been that day, we started walking to the bus station, him holding my hand as we walked. On our way there, we saw an old lady, with a very wrinkled face, black hair, very thin and an unhealthy appearance. She was sitting on the sidewalk, keeping her hand out in case anybody that passed by gave her any money. Before getting too close, my grandpa stopped and started searching his pockets. He got out a coin and handed it to me.  
     “Give this to that lady over there,” he told me in a quiet voice.  
     “I’m scared to give it to her myself,” I replied, hoping that he would understand and not make me go there. I had never given someone on the streets something myself, I was scared to try it out. 
     “There is nothing to be scared of,” my grandpa said, “she is a nice old lady who you shouldn’t fear. You should be nice and help her. She needs this money for food.” When I heard my grandpa say she needed food, I felt bad and wanted to give her the coin. He gave me the coin, and patted me on the back, telling me to go ahead and give it to her. I walked towards her and dropped the coin in her hand. She slowly smiled at me, and I hurried back to grandpa, happy that I had helped her. He hugged and smiled at me, saying that I did a good job.  
     Even after many years have passed, I still never forgot that day. Anytime I passed by someone homeless, I thought of what my grandpa had taught me, and I tried to help them if I could. Since that day, I have understood more about poverty and what it was. If some years ago I didn’t even know what poverty was, after that day, I always thought about the poorer and how hard life would be for them. I felt bad when I saw them on the streets, felt bad if it was raining and I was inside a car while they were looking at me, it seemed unfair that I had things that those people needed but didn’t have.  I thought it was very unfair that some kids didn’t get to go to school but instead had to beg on the streets, it was very unfair that some people didn’t have shelter, that they didn’t have food, water, or anything. It made me mad, thinking that parents that let their children out, begging on the streets, but what could they do. I always thought about what I would think about the poor if I hadn’t seen that lady that day with my grandpa. Maybe I wouldn’t care much about people who were less fortunate than me, maybe I would judge them, or maybe someone else would have taught me to help them, I will never know. I was glad that we had seen that old lady that day. 
     Even later, I tried helping the poor as much as possible. For a group project in school, where we were learning about homeless children, I suggested we put up fliers around the school telling people to donate clothes or toys so we could find an organization to give them to. We set up a space in the entrance of the school for people to drop off their bags, and by the end of the week, it seemed like there were millions of bags. Everyone at school participated more than we thought they would. We filled up the buses with the bags and left for the orphanage. The drive was more than 30 minutes, my group members were all nervous and excited to meet all the kids, and so was I. When we arrived, two ladies and about five children were waiting for us outside. As the drivers unloaded the bags, we went in and started talking with the kids. We read books to them and talked to them. At the end of the day, everyone was proud of the help we had given them. I couldn’t wait to tell my grandpa about it, I knew he would be proud.  
     I tried my best to donate, whenever school set up anything, or even by myself. I no longer felt sad if my clothes went to someone else after they didn’t fit me anymore. I helped as much as I could, hoping that it would make someone’s life a little better and make them happier.