Saying "When"

My husband and I had just returned from a week long stay in a third world country. Some friends of ours picked us up from the airport and suggested we stop for dinner on the way home. We chose olive garden as our diet had been pasta and cheese free for the past week. I love cheese. At any given time you can find a minimum of 5 types of cheese in my refrigerator. My mouth watered at the prospect of re-acquainting myself with such a friend. As we sat down to dinner and enjoyed the never ending pasta bowl and the freshly grated Parmesan, something unheard of happened. We were cut off. The waiter literally refused to serve us any more cheese. Never in the history of Olive Garden has an individual been denied the table-side grating of a fresh Parmesan. We were told that we could have no more cheese during our visit. It seems we had failed one too many times to say "When." 

Aside from the obvious shame and ridicule this story provokes, it also reminds me of the challenge of saying "when." As an adult, no one can say it for me, just me. No one else can say when my salad has been adequately cheesed or my food has been nicely pepper-milled. No one can estimate the perfect cream to my hot tea or the depth of my thirst when pouring water. Saying "when" is the tiniest of pleasures because it means I control my culinary fate. 

Unfortunately, in life, saying "when" does not end in a  garnish of lovely cheese on your plate. Saying "when" equals parting or ending or change.  When we say "when" we say "enough." That day I went to olive garden I never wanted to say "when" because  cheese held endless pleasures that had been denied to me for seven long days. Today I say "when" because I don't want to have high cholesterol or to face the shame of being cut off from the privilege of cheese again.  When I say "when" in life I say it because I realize I am not prepared to accept the inevitable consequences of allowing  something to continue.

Because "when" equals "no" I find myself resisting it.  While boundaries with others are difficult, boundaries for ourselves are painful. I can't know what will happen when I say "when." When I decide that I've had my fill of people or things that seem good but, in the end, hurt more than heal, I imagine I will find myself to be a much healthier and happier individual. Just like when I "when'd" the cheese. 

But no one can do that for me. No one can say that this habit or this friendship is too much for me but me. I have the adventure of personal responsibility before me. This week I find that saying "when"  is a solitary sail. 

The adventure, today, lies in what life will be without whatever we have "when'd." 

Life without cheese  would hardly be a life worth living. I comfort myself in that fact that despite the things I must "when", I will always have cheese to depend upon.