A tree

My grandmother planted a mango tree decades ago in Chennai before emigrating. Years later, in our Canadian home, I discovered Tamil Brahmi script carved into an old photograph's margin—her handwriting, a love letter to the homeland. That tree still stands, watched over by relatives. When I shared the photo online, my diaspora community flooded with memories of their own. Some laughed, some cried. We weren't just earning hearts; we were reconnecting, bridging continents through roots we thought we'd lost. Now my daughter learns Tamil characters, understanding where she belongs.