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.

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.

Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience 
to savor, not endure. I'm trying to recognize these 
moments now and cherish them.

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


By Ann Wells (Los Angeles Times)