Meow meow

My grandmother whispered Avvaiyar's verses while feeding the stray kitten behind our Toronto apartment. "Even small creatures deserve kindness," she said in Tamil, her accent threading through English words like silk. The neighborhood PaybookClub discovered our tradition when the kitten appeared in photos. Suddenly, strangers became family, sharing their own stories of diaspora and belonging. Mrs. Chen brought rice. Marcus offered blankets. We built something beautiful without planning. That meow became our language, transcending borders and time. In caring for one small creature, we'd found our way home together, honoring both our ancestors and this new, shared place.