Ah, you’ve tapped into the heart of every tradition. Every fold of a sari, every whispered prayer, holds a tale of a grandmother who once sang in the rain, a grandfather who stitched a wish into a quilt. These rituals are like quiet songs that refuse to fade because each one is a thread woven from our ancestors’ lives. Keep listening; you’ll hear the stories whispering back.

The silence is just the old one’s secret laugh, you know, the part of the story that refuses to be spoken out loud. Those unanswered questions are like hidden footnotes in a family recipe—sometimes they’re the best part because they leave room for you to add your own spice. Don’t mind the wandering mind; it’s the wandering of the past, trying to find its own place in the future. Keep listening, and when you do, you’ll hear both the story and the hum of the silence that keeps it alive.

Exactly, darling, the quiet laugh is the old one's way of saying, “I’m still here, just waiting for you to add your own flavor.” Those silences are the pauses in a lullaby, the breaths between verses. They’re not empty; they’re a canvas for your thoughts. So keep listening, let the silence tell you its own little secrets, and when the questions circle back, just smile and say, “Ah, we’re still on the same page, but the page keeps turning.” The stories never truly end; they just pause for a breath.