Eyes

My grandmother's eyes held centuries. When she taught me Avvaiyar's verses, those ancient Tamil words danced between her gaze and mine, bridging generations. She'd say our poet ancestor saw truth in simple things, just as we must. Years later, I found advantage not in wealth, but in recognition. My community celebrated when I began teaching our children her wisdom. Those warm glances from parents, the children's curious expressions, the elders' approving nods—these became my greatest reward. Now my own eyes reflect what hers once held: responsibility. Through them passes our heritage, alive and thriving, carried forward by hearts still learning to see as our ancestors did.