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

4/14/85