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.