Rincón de Gonzalo

That Chess Game With Old Pa

It has already been twelve years since that chess afternoon with my grandpa, Pedro. However, there is not an instant I do not remember what I learned that day from his words, although the game —now considered a sport—had to do a great deal with the lesson I still bear in mind every second of my existence.

Today is my thirtieth birthday and sadly, all those years of my twenties have already passed to rest in my chest of memories, which I carry not only physically, under my bedside, but also glued to my purest soul. I find myself now in my well-deserved office writing these lines because, at certain points in our lives, we must sit and reflect on every obstacle we've been through. This day is one of those meditative moments I'm talking about. Therefore, slouched in my comfortable fur armchair, I decided to unravel from my past a chapter of my life book in which I was truly made to open my eyes:

On a windy, mid-blackish day, I was given a disproportionate big Oreo cake with two layers more of some distinguished Spanish cookies. It was my birthday, and they certainly knew that sweet flavours have always been my thing when it comes to being thrilled or ecstatic when eating something. So yes, my family and friends hit indeed on the nail's head by preparing such sweet, creamy majesticness. However, I must pinpoint that there was usually a trail of hints before that day so that they could easily follow the track to give me what I've always wanted. Surprises weren't, and still aren't, kind of my cup of tea. However, on that 18th of October, my Old Pa decided to prove to me that surprises could indeed be very pleasing to be given.

Not long after devouring the last crumbs of said delicious cake, people started leaving my party, for it was already dinner time. That being the situation, before anyone was already gone, I started quickly opening the presents of my relatives. I got all kinds of clothes, as you can imagine hoodies, shirts, socks —more than I could count in a glimpse—, varied patterned ties, woolen scarves, and some sports shoes, just to name a few. There were also books, bullet point journals that were trendy at the time, and some nice pens, for, as you can see, writing was my thing and nowadays I can still admit with a great smirk that doing such things makes my deepest feelings and thoughts easily blossom inside my guts. It was, unexpectedly, a game that in fact monopolized my attention that very moment.

It seemed, at first, another typical rectangular carton box packed with socks —for the fourth time...—, nonetheless, as I was ripping a snowman-decorated gift wrap that covered it, I realized my thoughts were navigating in another complete direction. It wasn't until the end that I could open the apparent rusty and sound-cracking box to figure out what was the content of it: an almost perfectly conserved wooden chessboard game, over which I could find a yellowed post-it fastened it.

Pedro was looking at me beyond his veteran hippies' glasses from the eighties. Never had I witnessed such a fierce, intense, enthusiastic look coming from him as far as I can recall. The rustic dining room where we were was completely overshadowed for me as if there wasn't anything more important for me in those few seconds than this remarkable glimpse that came from his greyish iris. Deeply in my heart, those eyes keep existing there as my vigilant warden to closely follow my grown-up moves... I was so lost in him, trying to figure out why he looked me in that way, that my mom had to bring me back to reality by saying:

'Why don't you just read what it says, Arturo!?'

I turned back to her voice's direction and nodded nervously with a soft smile. Afterward, I looked back to the note and immediately connected the dots that had already begun to emerge in my mind since that loving look of Pa. The handwriting was shaky, slightly curved, and black-inked, so there wasn't any impediment to linking this old-fashioned style of redaction with one of my grandpa's.

'To my dearest nephew, to whom I feel the strongest connection. It is my wish that you enjoy this rusty and precious game of mine, that now I hand it over to you, for once in my young years it used to be my main source of entertainment –and learning—. I want the same thing for you, and I really hope you can take full advantage of it.