Pink sky

My grandmother clutched her phone, trembling fingers scrolling through the sunset photo I'd shared. Pink streaked the Boston sky as she sat in Chennai, six thousand miles away. She'd saved money all month, finally buying internet to watch her grandchildren's lives unfold. That evening, our Tamil community group lit up with our family's moment. Amma's friends marveled at the colors, at how I'd captured beauty in this adopted land. She replied in broken English, then Tamil, teaching me words I'd forgotten. The pink sky became more than a photograph. It bridged two worlds, reminding us we carry our heritage everywhere.