Artwork by Vasu Arora A few years have passed since my grandmother died, but her house in Whitestone, Queens, still feels alive with her routines. The faint smell of espresso lingers in the kitchen, and her large wooden rosary beads hang from the portico, just where she left them. On my last visit, while opening the junk drawer to find Werther's Originals, I came across a stack of old restaurant menus. They were soft at the edges, creased from years of use, and marked with her looping...