blood

Amma's hands trembled as she arranged jasmine flowers, the same way her mother taught her in Madurai decades ago. In this Toronto apartment, surrounded by photos of relatives scattered across continents, she felt the weight of inheritance. Her grandson scrolled through their family group chat, effortlessly sending money home with one tap, something impossible in her youth. The transaction felt spontaneous yet sacred. When cousins gathered online, their laughter erased distance. She understood now that blood wasn't just biology—it was connection, tradition flowing through digital streams and kitchen recipes alike. Heritage lived wherever her people gathered, adapting, thriving, remembering.