I’ve just said good-bye to Granny, not knowing when I will see her again. Small woman in my arms, her silver-gray spray of hair grazing my chin. In that brief embrace, I felt the soft folds of her skin beneath her sweater, malleable as marshmallow and impossibly forgiving. Skin creased with lines that mark a life lived in love. She has given everything away—a home in India, a home in Uganda, a beloved husband—and retained only that precious pearl of familial affection, which she polishes hourly and guards within her breast.

Small woman in my arms, shedding rare tears and telling me (while telling herself) to be strong. I want to turn the taxi away and rush back into the house, collapse into the serenity of the previous scene: Aunty, Granny, and me, the fire on in the sitting room, the World Cup flickering with faces of hope onscreen. So content in each other’s company, so comfortable in the safety of home. Drive on, taxi man! There will be no more travels for me. I am weary of traveling; Granny offers me peace.

I do not want to forget the moments I have spent beside her, listening to the stories of her colorful past. Her stories, like monsoons that erupt from silence and return to silence after awakening the earth. How many times have I sat before her with my ear open like a copper pan to catch every tumbling tale that falls from the parted clouds of her lips?

When I finally drag myself into the cab, I long to continue crying, to release my sorrow into the chapped leather seats. But within the radius of the portly driver, I feel too self-aware for true release. “How many tearful good-byes have you witnessed?” I ask him with as much cheer as I can muster, wiping my eyes with child-like fingers. “I’ve seen my fair share,” he replies and promptly changes the subject. As he tells me the mundane details about his impending vacation to every middle-aged Brit’s dreamland (Orlando, FL), I force my quavering lips into a smile and try not to count the miles that are taking me farther and farther away from 165 Canterbury Road.