better day

Amma's letter arrived with trembling hands. My grandmother had finally seen the temple again after forty years of separation. While I scrolled through crypto gains that morning, something shifted. The digital numbers felt hollow against her tears of homecoming at Srirangam. I realized my daily earnings meant nothing without purpose. That evening, I sent half my week's profits home, imagining her walking those ancient corridors once more. She could visit whenever she wished now. Success tasted different then, wrapped in her gratitude and prayers. Our roots, though scattered across continents, remained beautifully connected.