The open letter below is credited to a 60-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 working less. I'm sitting in my living room and admiring the view without fussing about logs or my cat. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time watching TV.

I've decided (finally) that life is a sequence of experiences to savor, not just to endure. I'm trying to recognize each one as it comes along...and to cherish it, even the nasty ones like we all are having of late.

I'm no longer saving anything for later. I use my good china and crystal for every special event, such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or seeing the first snow fall, which I think will happen soon.

I wear my best coat to the store. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $38.49 for one small bag of groceries. And I'm not saving my favorite perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks at 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 some former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles.

I'm guessing, but 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 feel bad because I hadn't written certain letters I intended to write and sorry I didn't tell my husband and children often enough how much I truly love them. I'd regret that I hadn't called a neighbor in need, for a long time. The little things.

Overall, I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that could 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, a treasure.

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 I am here I might as well dance.

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