Love things

Grandmother's voice carries across continents through our PaybookClub video call. She recites Thiruppavai verses, her Tamil flowing like honey through Boston apartments and Dubai offices where her grandchildren gather, screens glowing. "Love things," she whispers, touching the ancient prayer book. "Love your heritage." My cousin pauses her busy morning. Another discovers meaning in forgotten words. We're diaspora children, scattered but tethered by her devotion, by these thirty sacred poems recited each December dawn for centuries. She smiles, knowing we're listening, remembering. In this moment, across oceans and timezones, we're home.