Sometimes good enough is good

“Uh…Good enough,” he tosses the words behind him and scuffs up the stairs to his room. My neighbour sighs at her son’s pubescent disengagement. I on the other hand, am caught off guard by his remark and gracefully slosh my scalding coffee down my chest. I grab a paper towel and start rubbing the stain even deeper into the fibres of my new shirt, all the while wondering both why I continue to defy fashion mag warnings of the perils of wearing white after Labor Day,  and how such a young kid could be so smart.

The question that sparked this scene was banal enough. My neighbour’s 13 year old son had started high school four weeks earlier and while over for a casual cup of coffee I had simply asked him, “So, how’s school?”

Good enough. Bored sarcasm? Or had he learned more in his last 4 weeks of secondary education than I had in 45 years of the school of life?

–Good enough.

Finding a friend in good enough

It rarely feels that way. Not when we’re standing in the grocery line obsessively flipping our Facebook feed wondering why no one “likes” the brilliantly witty post we wrote a total of three a half minutes ago.

Nor when our exhausted eyes well up as we gaze at the lopsided, oddly salty pumpkin cake that looks nothing like the scrumptious Tasty video we so wanted to impress our friends with.

And certainly not when at brunch we listen to our girlfriend’s stories of strewn rose petals, lobster dinners and rings hidden in cannoli and our mind wanders to that rainy night years ago when, while driving home from his mother’s place we made the ever so practical decision to spend the rest of our lives together.

Remembering”good enough” has the word  good in it

But there are moments that come close. Like the end of a disheartening week when your boss calls out, “Great job on that report by the way!” as you close your office door to head home. Good enough.

Or the morning you walk into the kitchen and warm in the memory of last night’s raucous laughter, indifferent to the pumpkin-smeared dishes piled along the counters. Good enough.

Or later that same night when you flop on the couch too tired to climb the stairs and he wordlessly passes you the remote, your favorite beer and the last of the sour cream ‘n onion chips and you look at his greying, familiar profile and grin, thinking God, rose petals must be hell to clean up with a vacuum.

About the author: Maia Aziz, Social Worker (PSW) and Certified Humor Professional (CHP), writes and speaks on living a life of love and laughter. A member of the Association for Applied and Therapeutic Humor (AATH), Maia hosts a weekly talk radio show Morning Moments With Maia…Conversations of Love and Laughter, Sundays at 9am EST on blogtalkradio where she speaks with an eclectic lineup of guests who live their lives with positive


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