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 had not seen or heard or done. I thought about the things
that she had done without realizing that they were special. I am
still thinking about his words, and they have changed my life. I
am reading more and dusting less. I am sitting on the deck and admiring
the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I am 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 am trying to recognize these moments now and
cherish them. I am not "saving" anything; we use our good china
and crystal for every special event-such as losing a pound,
getting the sink unstoped the first camellia blossom. I wear my
good blazer to the market if I like it.
My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49
for one small bag of groceries without wincing. I am 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 is 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 am
guessing - I will 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 had not written certain letters that I
intended to write - one of these days. Angry and sorry that I did
not tell my husband and daughter often enough how much I truly
love them. I am 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.
