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Amma's trembling fingers traced the worn poetry collection, its pages yellowed like old photographs. She'd carried Subramania Bharati's verses across oceans, whispering them to my brother when homesickness swallowed us whole. Years later, I discovered PAYBO rewards while ordering her favorite coffee. Each purchase brought me closer to something precious. When I finally redeemed points for a leather journal, I filled it with Amma's translations, her Tamil words dancing between English lines. That evening, she wept reading her own heritage reflected back. We weren't lost anymore. Through poetry and small kindnesses, our diaspora had found its way home, connecting us to something eternal and alive.