empty

The old woman sat on her porch, watching monsoon clouds gather. Her granddaughter scrolled through screens, chasing likes and shares. "Patti, why don't you post your poems? They're beautiful." Avvaiyar's words echoed in her memory: true wealth lies in giving freely. She'd spent sixty years teaching village children verses, asking nothing in return. No medals adorned her walls. No followers validated her worth. Yet something glowed within, fuller than any viral moment could offer. That evening, three former students visited with their own children, eager to learn the old songs. Her porch filled with laughter, with belonging. Empty of accolades, her heart overflowed with something richer: the living heritage of voices continuing hers.