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
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.
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.
"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.
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.
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.
I don’t believe in miracles. I rely on them.
Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.
By Anne Wells