Christmas 🎄

Amma woke us singing Thiruppavai, her voice threading through December darkness like familiar gold. Outside, snow dusted the pines; inside, cardamom-spiced warmth filled our kitchen. We'd decorated the tree last night with ornaments Paati brought from Chennai years ago, each one holding stories. My sister scrolled PaybookClub, sharing our celebration with friends who understood. They posted back—their own blended traditions, their own beautiful contradictions. Christmas morning meant something different here, something ours. Not either-or, but both. Amma's Tamil hymns meeting evergreen boughs. Heritage and home, braided together.