In one photograph she is at the bottom of the sea; a neon-striped bright blue and yellow fish obscures her torso.
In another recent photograph she beams against a backdrop of temples in Myanmar.
(“Mom,” she said to me last spring, as she was planning her summer research. “How would you feel about my catching plague rats in Madagascar?”)
This daughter occasionally sends photographs of her travels, allowing me to drink in what she has seen.
I am unlikely ever to experience the other senses these places fill–the smells and tastes of German and Spanish food; the feel of uncut sandstone; street sounds in Bangalore; drenching humidity in Bangladesh; cadences of speech in more languages and dialects than I can imagine.
But it’s such a treat to share her windows on the world.