rainy morning

Amma stood on the Chennai balcony, watching monsoon clouds darken familiar streets. Rain drummed against tin roofs—a sound her Toronto apartment never captured. She'd returned to Tamil Nadu after twenty years, seeking something lost in translation across continents. Her niece brought steaming filter coffee, their fingers brushing as they shared the cup. No words needed; just the comfort of understanding. The rain fell harder, and Amma smiled, remembering why she'd come home. Later, neighbors gathered downstairs, sharing stories and snacks. Belonging felt like rain—essential, nourishing, reminding her that some roots run deeper than distance.