A Story To Live By

by Ann Wells (Los Angeles Times)

My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's

bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. "This," he

said, "is not a slip. This is lingerie." He discarded the

tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite; silk,

handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag

with an astronomical figure on it was still attached. "Jan

bought this the first time we went to New York, at least 8

or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a

special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion." He

took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other

clothes we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered

on the soft material for a moment, then he slammed the

drawer shut and turned to me. "Don't ever save anything for

a special occasion. Every day you're alive is a special

occasion."

I remembered those words through the funeral and the days

that followed when I helped him and my niece attend to all

the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. I thought

about them on the plane returning to California from the

Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought

about all the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done.

I thought about the things that she had done without

realizing that they were special.

I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed

my life. I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting on

the deck and admiring the view without fussing about the

weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family

and friends and less time in committee meetings. Whenever

possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savor,

not endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and

cherish them.

I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and

crystal for every special event-such as losing a pound,

getting the sink unstopped, the first camellia blossom.

I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like it. My

theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for

one small bag of groceries without wincing. I'm not saving

my good perfume for special parties; clerks in hardware

stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as

well as my party-going friends'.

"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip

on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing,

I want to see and hear and do it now. I'm not sure what my

sister would have done had she known that she wouldn't be

here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think she

would have called family members and a few close friends.

She might have called a few former friends to apologize and

mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think she would

have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favorite food. I'm

guessing-I'll never know.

It's those little things left undone that would make me

angry if I knew that my hours were limited. Angry because I

put off seeing good Friends whom I was going to get in

touch with-someday. Angry because I hadn't written certain

letters that I intended to write-one of these days. Angry

and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and daughter often

enough how much I truly love them. I'm trying very hard

not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add

laughter and luster to our lives.

And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that

it is special.

Every day, every minute, every breath truly is...a gift

from God.