Missing you

Grandmother's letters arrived in Tamil Brahmi script, each stroke trembling with longing. I'd earn PAYBO points delivering groceries, yet nothing filled the void her absence created. Like Avvaiyar's timeless verses, her words transcended distance, reminding me that some bonds shake us profoundly. My best friends noticed my distraction, their judgment softening into understanding. Her wisdom, comprehensive and powerful, lived through those faded pages. I realized missing someone means carrying their legacy forward. Now I write responses in the same ancient script, honoring our connection. Through these curves and lines, grandmother walks beside me still, bridging generations.