She wants to smell lilacs — the kind that grew all over her family’s farm in Poland when she was a girl. But we had snow showers here last week. The lilacs have been long gone.
She can’t remember to take her pills or if she ate lunch or that she’s supposed to set the table for dinner. She drinks instant coffee because she can’t remember how to work the coffee maker. She only listens to the radio or watches tv because she knows how to turn them on and off. She can’t remember how to use the audiotape or CD players.
But she remembers the scent of lilacs. She wants to smell lilacs.
So, we stop and the Health Hut and I buy some Lilac essential oil, fill up a spray bottle with water and pour in some of the oil. I spray the air, her clothes, her bed.
And so, I sit here smelling lilacs.
Actually, I prefer lavender.