Mah Jongg My Mother’s Game?So many of the old adages are now living at my front door. Cliches that I never got, couldnt internalize or just wasnt ready for have now come into play with regularity. Fortuitously, they serve as the bettor at our Mah-jongg table. More forgiving and grateful, less verbalizing differences seems to be our new posture. We sit down and the magic occurs. First game out we adjust our seat, call on our strategy and throw “the dice.” We leave so much more to chance. No more rebuffing what is, just fact and acceptance feel like the right path to take. We flinch at the first interference in our game of Life–and in turn almost welcome it. A phone call from someone’s kid sharing the joy over their daughter’s ballet recital is typical. An interruption because the deocrator went to the wrong place, perhaps. The bell ringing when the handyman comes to prepare the terrace for planting. We pool our woes and share our joys. Are we lucky or have we turned happenstance into “sheer” delight?
My parents had an activity with their weekly group of couples called “Coffee and…” I am now getting that the “and” was so much more than cheese danish or chocolate babka.
I love our “and.” When I was younger and had a piece of chicken. I would eat the wings last. I savored the best for then. I now sit down to our chicken lunch and go for the wings first. I decided it’s because I cant wait to get back to what we came for. I know that the real reason I enjoy this activity is because it recapitulates my parents activity of continuity. Well here’s to so many more days of Mah Jongg “And.”