I miss both of you

Amma's letter arrived handwritten in Tamil Brahmi, characters dancing across the page like childhood memories. I scrolled through my phone in Toronto, the app notification glowing—my heritage post had finally paid enough to visit home. Appa's voice crackled through video call, elusive and distant despite the screen between us. I missed his presence, his hands gesturing stories only he could tell. The comments flooded in: genuine connections from scattered diaspora members recognizing their own longing. We weren't just sharing; we were surviving distance together, keeping our roots alive through pixels and payment, finding each other in the most unexpected places.