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.

"You've got to dance like nobody's watching, and love like it's never going  to hurt."
 

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