There is this wonderful word in Arabic, khalas, that means done, finished, enough. It’s one of the only bits of the language I know.
It’s throaty and beautiful and one of my favorite words in any language. It’s decisive and finite.
My mom would say it when my sister and I were younger—after dinner, after we had done our homework. Khalas? Are you finished?
And there were times when she said it perhaps a bit more impatiently, a bit more firmly—after an argument, after an upset. Wallah, khalas. I couldn’t quite translate it, but I knew it meant, It’s done. We’re moving on.