Enough

Chide me not for the sins you think I should have taken.

That my life could be full of things.

More pies, chocolates and champagne at holidays.

That my trash bin on Christmas morn be stuffed with empty boxes

instead of sitting near empty as we ourselves sit with fuller hearts.

That my weekends should be spent abroad

in some high hotel or some mammoth trailer

where I might enjoy liquor and become lightheaded.

That my to humble home,

not so grand as to be filled with empty rooms needing to be dusted and swept.

That my days, ought be spent in cleaning maintaining one instead of planting gardens?

Is it not enough that I should have one table from which to sup simple cottage fare?

What would it profit to have two?

Is it not enough to have a chair next to my fire, where at the dimming of the day I warm my bones?

Why would I need more furnishings?

Am I not able draw chairs from my table to entertain guests?

Deeper questions remain with acquisitions.

That unlimited wants should beggar nature…

robbing its life so-as-to toss superfluous possessions into rectangles while destroying the free form of abundance.

Chide me no more for not partaking of the shallowness of humanity and destroying the essence of life. When - I have discovered —enough.

James Jonathan Ruggles,

Wallace