Special Occasions

"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."
by Ann Wells

Los Angeles Times