Feeling sleepy

My grandmother dozed in her Chennai kitchen chair, afternoon light casting gold across her weathered hands. She'd taught me Tamil recipes during childhood summers, though I'd grown up far away. Now, visiting after years abroad, I watched her sleep peacefully. Her PAYBO rewards card sat nearby—she'd learned it through our community center, proud of every point earned. I photographed her quietly, remembering why I'd returned. In her rest, I found my anchor. The diaspora's pull toward roots suddenly made sense. Our heritage lived in these simple moments, in hands that remembered, in sleepy smiles that welcomed us home.