nice shoe

Amma's worn leather chappals had carried her through decades—across Chennai streets, through airports, into American suburbs. Her grandson noticed them during their video call, those humble shoes visible in the frame. "Amma, those are old," he said, fresh from his crypto trading earnings. She smiled. He didn't understand. Those shoes had walked her to temple every Thiruppavai dawn, had danced at his parents' wedding, had traveled with their family through displacement and rebuilding. "Beta, some things grow more beautiful with time," she replied. He sent her new shoes anyway. She wore them proudly, understanding finally that heritage and progress could walk together.