Today, I was casually scrolling through my Facebook timeline, reading think pieces, laughing at memes… the usual.

Then I came across a video from a family that I follow. They were sharing a funny yet sentimental moment of their kids “passing the torch” of wearing Dad’s durag to the baby of the family—just like they had all done as babies.

I laughed and said to myself,
“I can’t wait to do things like that with my little family… just us ‘doing stuff.’”

I sat there for a moment, reading the comments, smiling… then kept scrolling.

Not long after, I came across a post from an old schoolmate asking for prayers for their family as they laid their grandmother to rest.

Her grandmother… was my childhood neighbor.

She was pictured in a hospital bed, smiling, holding her great-grandchildren.

And out of nowhere, I started crying.
Tears just… started falling.
And I remember thinking,
“I didn’t react like this when I first found out she passed… so why am I crying now?”

That’s when it started to click.

Seeing that picture brought me back to being a kid.

Our neighbors.
My childhood.
The memories.

I didn’t realize how deep that connection was until I started sitting with it.
Those quiet, familiar connections we build with people… even when they’re not family.

And naturally, my thoughts drifted to my own family.
The ones who are gone.
The ones who are still here.

My Granny.

She and my neighbor were only about a month apart in age.
And the fact that I still have her here… to share life with… is something I don’t take for granted.

As I sat in that moment, thinking about my neighbor holding her great-grandchildren… I found myself thinking about my own future.

I want that.

I want to share moments like that with my Granny.

And then, quietly, another thought came in:
“But… will that happen in time?”

I didn’t push the thought away.
I just sat with it.

And in that moment, something gently pulled me back to a memory.
A recent visit home.

My Granny had given me two plants to take back with me.
I remember playfully telling her,
“Here you go giving me something else to take care of.”
And she said,
“Well, you don’t have any kids yet… so I’m giving you something to do.”
As she showed me how to repot it, she added,
“And when it starts to grow, you can put a post in there… and the plant will grow up on it.”
I took the plants home and started caring for them… just like she showed me.

But today… I realized something.
She didn’t just give me a plant.
That plant came from something she has grown for years.
Something that has lived through time, care, and consistency.

And now… I have a piece of it.

Something to nurture.

Something to grow.

With time.

With care.

With love.

That’s lineage in motion.

That’s legacy.

I may not have my own family to share with my Granny just yet…
But I have everything she’s already given me:

The way I think about family.

The way she’s loved me.

What she’s poured into me.

And now… even something as small as a plant.

Today showed me something I didn’t fully realize before:
Legacy isn’t something I’m waiting to create.
It’s something I’m already carrying within me.

🪴🥰🤍




What does legacy look like in your life right now?
If something came up for you…
come sit with me in the Living Room and share.