appreciation

My grandmother's weathered hands trembled as she read Kannadasan's verses aloud, words traveling through time like currency between hearts. In Toronto, I discovered her voice echoing through a Tamil diaspora network, connecting strangers who craved home's familiar rhythms. Someone sent money for her medical bills. Another shared family recipes. A third simply wrote appreciation beneath her poetry posts. These digital exchanges felt sacred, transforming screens into gathering spaces where our heritage breathed freely. Grandmother smiled, understanding finally that distance couldn't diminish belonging. Our scattered community, bound by language and longing, had become richer than any inheritance. We were home to each other.