Recently I overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments together at the airport. Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the mother said “I love you and I wish you enough.” The daughter replied, “Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom.” They kissed and the daughter left.
The mother walked over to the window where I was seated. I asked her, “When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say ‘I wish you enough’. May I ask what that means?” She began to smile. “That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone”.
She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail and she smiled even more. “When we said ‘I wish you enough’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them”. Then turning toward me she shared the following as if she were reciting it from memory:
“I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.”
(st)
