Tsukimi Annayake 2003

The common room in the home is getting emptier. Some time ago, there were still 8 to 10 people sitting there; now it’s usually only 5. Many don’t even leave their beds anymore, and the few who are there mostly sit alone at a table. My father has a regular spot at a two-person table, together with Hubert. He has ALS, can hardly move, and struggles to swallow or speak; often I feed him while chatting with my father beside him. Recently, Hubert turned 60, and my father gave him half of his piece of cake, and I sang him Happy Birthday, crooked and off-key, as the caregiver asked me to. I hate singing; anyone who hears me knows why, but Hubert was happy, and that made it worth it. At the table next to my father sits Mrs. N.; her husband is also in the home, and they have separate rooms because he no longer recognizes her. She always parks her walker behind my father, making it difficult for me to push him out in his wheelchair. There’s enough space, but she wants it to be exactly like that, period. Otherwise, she becomes unpleasant. The small, demented, toothless Mrs. U. hardly comes into the common room anymore; her husband visits her every day, his mouth corners getting longer and his steps more shuffling. He is sad when his wife doesn’t recognize him and angry when she flirts with Mr. Pluto or the caregiver; he likes that even less, which is perhaps why he rarely comes with her anymore. Jealousy at almost 90, feelings last a lifetime. The nurse comes in and asks who wants coffee and notices: It smells like Advent tea here. As she pours coffee for my father, she sniffs. Oh, you smell so good; it’s so cozy and spicy, what is that?

Before visiting the home, I apply fragrances more generously and prefer the comforting and softer scents. Tsukimi has been accompanying me for the second autumn now, thanks to Palonera's comment. The fragrance starts off very softly citrusy, quickly joined by a peppery clove and a pinch of cumin that gives it a piquant note. Plum and cinnamon are easily recognizable. The scent is balsamic and spicy, has a pleasant smokiness and something sacred about it. If Tsukimi were a color, it would be reddish-brown. Vanilla and sandalwood round it off, making Tsukimi soft and warm, without sticky sweetness. A restrained, fruity-woody oriental, with considerable longevity; the sillage is medium - or strong, depending on the sprayer :o) And I think, one more spray suits it well. Although listed as a women's fragrance, I can easily imagine Tsukimi on a man. The bottle is easy to handle; it doesn’t quite match my taste, but it doesn’t look cheap.

And indeed, while I’m sniffing myself, Tsukimi also has something of Advent tea; the nurse is right.