I just returned from a long walk with a good friend. We began our walk at midnight. Moments before, I was clueless and sprawled out in front of the fan watching House Hunters International. Funny, how one phone call can change things. I hung up, jumped in my car and headed over to her place. Once I got there, we just looked at each other and silently together headed out to burn some midnight oil. As we walked through the dark streets, I concentrated on avoiding cracks in the pavement while listening to the voice of her tired soul unravel to me its sad story.

They were young, they were in love and life was perfect. Never mind the struggle just to scrape together decent meals or keep the cold out at night paying for rent to live in a converted garage. Life and god were gracious because they had each other.

Hard work and sacrafice over the next few years finds them in a home. There is no longer the garage apartment, no immediate worries of when the next meal is coming, no closeness and no trust. She explained, it is instantaneous to feel essential parts of you missing but it takes time to face the reality of if it’s ever coming back. You always try to get a strangle hold on the hope that it does. Some married couples pitter-patter through the new emptiness because of routine, children, security…but when is it enough?

Yesterday, my friend found her Enough. Her Enough was waiting for her on the floor - between her dresser and her bed. Another women’s under shirt thrown haphazardly and turned inside out as if in a rush. The stench of an unfamiliar perfume lingering in their bedroom and a missing husband was her piss poor welcome home after a weekend away at her family reunion. Awkward and shaking in her own room, reality takes little time sinking in.

She finally says…Enough.