I first wrote this in 2009—that’s seventeen (!) years ago now. …And I’m happy to report that I still agree with myself here. Perhaps you need this encouragement at the moment, whether you first read this ages ago or are reading it for the first time.
A few years ago, I read this excerpt from one of Erma Bombeck’s columns, when she discovered she was dying from cancer—it was titled, “If I Had to Live My Life Over”:
“… I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage. I would have talked less and listened more. I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded. I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace. …I would have sat on the lawn with my kids, even if it meant grass stains.”
It hit home. I have a bottle of perfume—one that I love—that was a Mother’s Day gift from several years ago. I’ve used about a quarter of it. I’m not sure if I’m waiting for the queen to visit, an invitation to the presidential inauguration ball, or just some romantic date with my husband, but for some reason I’m hesitant to use it as though it’s a precious commodity; once it’s gone, it’s gone.
This is true, to some degree. But if I love it so much, why don’t I just …use it?
