that’s enough

How do you know when you’ve had enough? 

I mean, really.  Just stop to ask yourself this question about something you’re doing or that’s going on in your life — and you’ll see — this is a question you don’t have the answer to ahead of time.

Oh sure, you can do all the scenario planning you want. 

If this, then that. 

Then this happens —

And you think, well — just one more bite.

And is that enough?  Could be — 

Or not.

“Grandma I think you’re really gonna like this,” my cousin Peter coaxes, loading the tip of a spoon with a tiny tidbit of peach. 

The minute it hits her tongue she screws up her face.  Opens her mouth wide in protest, hoping she’ll be allowed to spit it out.  When it’s finally down, she announces “I’m not a lover of fruit.  Enough.”

He flips the lid off a frosty cup of orange stuff.  Puts a dab on the spoon. 

“Does it taste like orange?”

“No, I can’t say it does.”

“Do you like it?’

“Well, fair— it ain’t the worst.  That’s enough.”

“Do you like cucumbers?”

“No!,” sticking out her tongue.  Aggressively.

“How ’bout a sip of this pink cocktail?”

She bares her teeth at him.  “All right now — that’s enough.  That’s enough bull.”

Oh, Grandma, I hear you. 

God bless you, you have had enough.  But I —

I have not. 

I want one more bite.

One more call.

One more prayer.

One more kiss —