This  was written by an 83-year-old woman to her friend. 

*The  last line says it all. *

Dear Bertha,
I’m reading more and  dusting less. I’m sitting in the yard 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  working.
Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of  experiences to savor, not to 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,  or the first Amaryllis blossom.
I wear my good blazer to the  market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for  one small bag of groceries. I’m not saving my good 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 it’s worth seeing  or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and 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  think they would have called family members and a few close friends.  They might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences  for past squabbles. I like to think they would have gone out for a  Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was.
I’m  guessing; I’ll never know.
It’s those little things left undone  that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. 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 parents 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,  tell myself that it is special.
Every day, every minute, every breath truly is  a gift from God.

Life  may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as  well dance