It's nice when a little story with high potential for lightening the load floats in out of the blue. The themes in the story are not especially new, but they strike a chord nevertheless.

The open letter below is credited to a 63-year-old woman who was writing to a dear friend.

Dear...

What am I doing? Well, let me tell you. I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in my garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time working.

I've decided (finally) that life is a sequence of experiences to savor, not just to endure. I'm trying to recognize each one now...and to cherish it.

I'm no longer "saving" anything. I use our good china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or seeing the first snow fall.

I wear my good coat to the store. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries. And I'm not saving my best perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank.

"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If something's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see or hear or do it now.

I'm not sure what others would've done had they known they wouldn't be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. I'd like to think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have even gotten in touch with a few, former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. Perhaps they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner together.

I'm guessing; I'll never know.

I do believe that it would be the little things left undone that would make me angry if I suddenly knew my hours were limited. I would be angry because I hadn't written certain letters I intended to write, angry and sorry I didn't tell my husband and parents often enough how much I truly love them. The little things.

Overall, I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to my life or the lives of people I care about. And nowadays, every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself, "this is special." I have come to believe that each day, minute, and breath truly is a gift from God.

So where do I come out on of all this? The way I see it today is that though life may not quite be the party I had hoped for, while here I might as well dance.

Editor’s Note: The letter above was paraphrased from an anonymous offering out of cyberspace.



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