A
Story To Live By
Ann Wells
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.
Los Angeles Times |