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.