She has but weeks. We pore over albums. There aren’t many pictures of her young life – just a couple of sepia photos of her with her parents, and of her graduation. There’s a black-and-white album of her wedding, and color photos of family vacations we took. Her hand reaches for her favorite photos – in Sringeri with the gigantic Deccan mahseer nibbling at our toes in the river, at Karwar Beach where she was on her honeymoon. It seems as if she’s drawn to water these days. She points to one with the waterfalls. Where was this, I ask. Jog Falls, where I told him he was going to be a father. She sprinkles the money plant on the windowsill and turns it towards the light. Even the Devil’s ivy… she murmurs and closes her eyes.
cascading falls
combing her silvery locks
wide-toothed comb