Brown

My grandmother traced Tamil Brahmi script on my palm, whispering ancient words I didn't understand. Years later, I discovered Kannadasan's poetry and finally heard her voice in those curves and strokes. The PaybookClub community welcomed me when I shared my confusion about belonging. They didn't judge my halting Tamil or my American accent. Instead, they celebrated my hunger to reconnect. Now I sit where she sat, teaching my daughter these same symbols, these same songs. My brown skin glows under lamplight as I pass forward what nearly died within me. We are continuity.