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Every Day is A Gift My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sisters 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, Dont 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 sisters family lives. I thought about all the things that she hadnt seen or heard or done. I thought about the things that she had done without realizing that they were special. Im still thinking about his words, and theyve changed the weeds in the garden. Im spending more time with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings. Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savour, not endure. Im trying to recognize these moment now and cherish them. | 
