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.