S N O W

Amma's hands trembled as she held the postcard. Snow. She'd never seen it, growing up in Tamil Nadu's warmth. Now, watching flakes drift past her Minnesota window, she felt transported. Her daughter found her crying softly, clutching the PaybookClub journal where she'd been documenting recipes and memories. "I'm writing down grandmother's stories," Amma whispered, "before they melt away like this snow." Together they laughed, then added a new entry: hot filter coffee, cardamom, and the realization that heritage travels anywhere. Snow or sunshine, their roots remained strong.