Where's the sun?

Amma stood on the Toronto balcony, phone glowing in winter darkness. Her grandson asked why the sun disappeared so early here. She smiled, remembering Srivilliputhur's golden afternoons—mangoes ripening under endless skies, temple bells echoing across generations. "The sun follows us everywhere, beta," she whispered, showing him the PAYBO token transfer from cousins still home. Digital rupees bridging continents, keeping roots alive. She squeezed his hand. "When family connects across oceans, light never truly fades." Outside, snow fell gently, but inside bloomed the warmth of belonging.