Halloween

My grandmother called from Chennai, confused by my costume. "Why dress as a ghost when you could be Kannadasan?" she laughed, remembering the poet's defiant spirit. I explained Halloween to her through video chat, watching her face light up as she understood—this festival of borrowed identities somehow connected us across continents. Later, my cousin sent money through our group chat, joking that he was "cashing in on family stories." We pooled resources for Mom's medical bills, transforming our Tamil diaspora network into something tangible and loving. That night, surrounded by pumpkins and jack-o'-lanterns, I felt the weight of tradition dancing with American belonging. Sometimes home isn't one place.