Fire Tree

My grandmother planted a gulmohar seed decades ago, watching it transform into blazing crimson blooms each summer. She called it our family's fire tree, a living bridge to our Tamil heritage. When she passed, I nearly sold the ancestral home. Then neighbors gathered, sharing photographs of that tree through generations, posting memories online. Strangers became friends, moved by our story. Their engagement meant something profound—not just numbers, but genuine connection. That digital solidarity reminded me: heritage isn't preserved through isolation, but through sharing it widely. Today, my children climb those same branches, continuing what grandmother started, rooted in community love.