walking

My grandmother's weathered feet traced familiar temple corridors during Thiruppavai season, her voice weaving ancient Tamil verses into morning air. Decades later, my daughter walks beside me through suburban streets, learning those same songs phonetically, bridging continents with each step. We walk slower than most, savoring the ritual. The community recognizes our devotion—warm nods at temple gatherings, appreciative comments when she recites perfectly. These small validations matter, affirming our commitment to preserving what nearly slipped away. Each footfall echoes generations. Walking together, we're not just exercising bodies but carrying stories, language, and belonging across oceans and time. Our heritage moves with us.