my morning

Every dawn, Amma calls from Chennai. Her voice carries the temple bells ringing across my childhood home, and I'm transported back instantly. Today she asks about the monsoon rains hitting our village streets, wondering if I remember jumping through puddles near the old tamarind tree. I transfer money through our family app, watching rupees convert to possibilities. My cousins joke about our digital cash circle, how we're scattered yet connected. She laughs, says the neighborhood women marvel at their children abroad yet so present. This ritual, this connection spanning continents, reminds me that home travels through our bonds.