Under the May Sunshine – Yuko Takeda, Dean, Faculty of Nursing and Medical Care
2022.05.17
As is the case every year, after the new academic year begins, I somehow manage to get through the whirlwind of days and can finally take a breather during the May holidays.
The world seemed to be in a festive mood for the first long holiday in a while without restrictions on movement, but I had no particular plans and spent the time off working on my backlog of manuscripts and other tasks at my own pace.
I did incorporate one task that had been on my mind but that I had been putting off: managing the belongings of my mother, who passed away last year. Although I had managed to complete the necessary administrative procedures, I had been turning a blind eye to her house, only stopping by occasionally to air it out, aside from tending to the garden trees. Perhaps I should have just dealt with everything, but the difficult part was that my mother had been a tea ceremony instructor for many years, leaving behind her tools of the trade: tea utensils and kimonos. While most tea utensils are not easily damaged even if left unattended, the kimonos were a problem. Several years had passed since she stopped giving lessons, so the kimonos should not have been worn during that time.
I had been procrastinating on dealing with their greatest enemies—moisture and moths—and wondered if it was already too late. Relying on the forecast for clear skies in the middle of the holiday, I made this my only holiday event. The term *satsuki-bare* (五月晴れ, literally "May fine weather") originally referred to a clear day during the rainy season in June (the fifth month of the old lunar calendar), but it is said that its misuse to mean a fine day in May became established over time. I worked under a perfectly clear sky, a true *satsuki-bare*.
My plan was to air out the kimonos and organize the closet in the meantime, but I was stunned as soon as I began. The sheer number of them made my plan to spread them out to air in the shade an impossible one. I tried spreading them out in the room, still in their *tatōshi* (畳紙, protective paper wrappers), just to let some air circulate, but I had to give up on that as well. Having no other choice, I decided to stack them alternately and put them back in the chest of drawers after replacing the dehumidifiers and moth repellents, checking each one as I went. It became a task filled with nostalgia for my mother, remembering things like, "This was her favorite one she wore often," or "This was for the *hatsugama* (first tea ceremony of the year)..."
When I took them out, they felt a bit damp, which worried me, but I confirmed that they were in very good condition with no stains or wrinkles. Small paper labels marked them as *hitoe* (unlined), *awase* (lined), *haori* (jackets), and so on. I was impressed by my mother's meticulous care, and it made me think that I must find a way to put them to good use.
As I was leaving, I peeked into the closet with the tea utensils and hastily threw in some dehumidifiers and moth repellents. Inside, there were a large number of hanging scrolls. I'll have to spread them out to air on the next sunny day...